


Only Fools Rush In

by ElisaSan



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Affairs, Claude's wyvern - Freeform, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Light Angst, Original Character(s), Sexual Content, The Wyvern Babies, no beta we die like Glenn, there's a lot going on here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:27:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 135,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22284835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElisaSan/pseuds/ElisaSan
Summary: Garage Mach is anything but abstinent.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Dorothea Arnault/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 77
Kudos: 124





	1. It Felt Like Spring Time on This February Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Okay, so there's a lot going on with this. Multiple chapters? Yes. I don't want to give a whole lot away but there are a lot of pairings, there is a lot of sex, there is a lot of tea. I don't think I'll be revealing any kind of major spoilers. Setting is Garreg Mach post time skip but not consistent with events post time skip. I'll bend some other details as well to make things smooth. Not positive how many chapters there will be yet. I really hope you like it and thanks for reading!!!

The sun was high in the sky and the birds were singing more than they had all month. It was unusually warm; a perfect day to be in the courtyard with tea or socializing at the marketplace, or…

“Ingrid?” Sylvain called to her, from just within earshot. Ingrid was sitting on a bench outside the 1st floor dorms and visibly upset. “I’ll catch up to you later, okay? Thanks for the seminar notes, Lorenz.” Sylvain said, before giving Lorenz a wave and making his way toward Ingrid. “Hey? Ingrid!” He called again before approaching her and sitting beside her on the bench. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?” He asked, concerned by the state she was in as she sat there alone.

“Hey...” she sobbed, sniffing and wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. Sylvain noticed the crumpled paper and torn envelope beside Ingrid.

“What’s wrong? You look really upset.”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing...just...just another...” Ingrid gritted her teeth, feeling anger and frustration boil up in her. “...fucking...marriage prospect from my father. He sent me this damn…fucking letter! No! Not a letter…a stupid…pre-nuptial agreement marked where to sign! Uuuugghhh!!!” Ingrid growled. “This time it’s some noble from up north who owns land and a stately home and…shit!” She ranted, tears welling up in her eyes again. “I’m sorry...I’m sorry…I just...”

“It’s okay, Ingrid. You don’t have to explain. I’d be pissed too. Your dad just doesn’t let up with picking out men for you.” Sylvain said. Ingrid shook her head.

“No...he doesn’t. It’s like...he doesn’t even care about me anymore. He cares about our status. Ingrid was getting worked up again. “I swear to the Goddess! My dad wouldn’t care what fucking noble it was! As long as I have a baby with a crest...that’s it!” Ingrid was usually calm and collected and she never threw this kind of language around. However, her father could push her buttons like crazy.

“I completely understand.” Sylvain assured her, raising his eyebrows. It was true that Sylvain could relate heavily to what Ingrid was experiencing. The primary difference was that his parents didn’t shove it down his throat the way Ingrid’s father did. Ingrid’s father was hellbent on securing her marriage. Sylvain’s parents wouldn’t be exactly thrilled that he had derailed most of his prospects. “How long have you and I known each other?” He asked. Ingrid shrugged.

“I don’t know...what? Fifteen years? I mean, at least fifteen years.”

“I’d say that’s about right. And, your dad started trying to marry you off when you were like...six? Seven?” Sylvain questioned. Ingrid nodded.

“He started husband shopping on my sixth birthday…which, in hindsight…is so fucked up. He and I...we have a complicated relationship. We always have.”

“I’d hardly call it a relationship. You and your dad have never gotten along. You are your family’s golden ticket to securing and maintaining a social rank...just like I am to my family.” Sylvain said. Ingrid nodded again.

“You’re right.” Ingrid concurred, sniffing again. “I wish I were a fucking commoner, Sylvain. This would all go away. This is...” Ingrid closed her eyes for a moment to calm herself “...this is my fourth damn marriage related request in two weeks! TWO WEEKS! This is a pre-nup for Goddess’ sake! A pre-nup for someone I have never met.” She said, feeling her tears start to fall again. Sylvain watched Ingrid for a moment in her broken state. He truly hated seeing Ingrid like this. In all the years he had known her, the one thing he had learned was how strong she was in spite of her family. And now? Seeing the way her father had finally gotten under her skin...was hurtful.

“I’m so sorry, Ingrid...” he said sincerely, staring across the manicured lawn at the opposite wall. He could hear the mages practicing on the other side and the laughter that ensued when they cast a spell that ended up a dud. As he listened helplessly to Ingrid as she attempted to regain her composure. He scowled at nothing in particular. Sylvain focused his attention to Ingrid’s pink-tinged, swollen face. “Write your dad...Tell him you’ve decided to marry me.”

“What the!? What the fuck!? Are you insane!” Ingrid snapped.

“No! Listen! Think about this, Ingrid!” Sylvain said excitedly, moving to his knees in front of her to force contact with her glassy eyes. “House Gautier. Noble family. My crest. Your crest. Babies with crests. Your family knows my family well. If you just lie and tell your dad that you’ve decided to marry me, it will shut him up…at least for a while. He’ll eat that shit from the palm of your hand, Ingrid! He’ll be foaming at the mouth over the thought of you becoming the heiress to House Gautier!”

Damn it. Ingrid hated it when Sylvain came up with some idea that was pure genius. She envied the way he could slack off all the time and then pull a brilliant plan out of his ass. He wasn’t wrong about anything he had just said. Her father would be over the moon. All it meant was an informal announcement stating her intentions. There was nothing official about it. She could easily lie to him about this.

“Why...why would you do something like this for me? Why would you allow me to drag you into my own issues?” Ingrid questioned, thinking about Sylvain’s idea.

“Uh...because we just talked about how long we’ve known each other. I hate seeing you like this! And Goddess only knows that my family does the same messed up crest shit! They just express it differently. Let me have your back! I know you think I am a total dipshit most of the time...but I get this. I get what you’re having to endure. I am...” Sylvain shook his head and put his hands out toward Ingrid. “...I am legit trying to be a good friend, here. I’m not hitting on you. I’m not telling you how hot you are. I’m not trying to put my hand on your perfect legs. I’m not…”  
“Okay! Okay! Quit while you’re ahead…Ingrid sighed heavily.

“I’ve heard that sigh before.” Sylvain said, his smile completely irresistible. Ingrid nodded her head.

“Thank you.” She continued to nod, sniffing once again. “Thank you for...tolerating me. I know I’m…I’m really hard on you…a lot. Yet…you still manage to…stay your same, pleasant self.” Ingrid sighed again and gave Sylvain a chuckle. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.” She laughed harder at the absurdity of it all. “You are a good friend, Sylvain.” She assured him. “Oh...Goddess...I need to...I need to pull my face together.

“What are you doing the rest of the day?” Sylvain asked, raising up from his knee.

“Nothing until I look a little bit presentable. I’m supposed to go to seminar later.” Ingrid said, standing up with him.

“Screw seminar. You won’t be missing anything. C’mon. Let’s go day drink and complain about our families.” Sylvain said. Ingrid laughed.

“You know…any other time, I would lecture you about going to train or reviewing the professor’s tactical assignments…but I need to drink a lot.” She confessed, feeling more relieved than she had all morning.

“Can you drink straight whiskey? Felix has a bottle of that really smooth stuff they distill up there in Fraldarius country.”

“I could drink the ammonia straight that they use to scrub down the armor.” Ingrid said, her typical, delightful sarcasm present in her voice again. “Won’t Felix get really pissed if you just take his booze? Today is his birthday. He may have plans for that whiskey. And, that Fraldarian stuff is expensive.” Sylvain laughed.

“First, his dad will send that shit whenever he wants it. Second, Felix owes me big...like...as in giving me every bottle of whiskey he receives for the next two months, big.” He explained.

“Goddess, you must have something good on him.” Ingrid said, following Sylvain to the second-floor dorms.

“Oooooh, believe me I do. I can’t tell you what it is, but it’s fan-fucking-tastic.” Sylvain assured her.

* * *

In a different wing on the 2nd floor of the monastery, Mercedes carefully examined the liquid before her; inserting the needle into the top of the small bottle. She was thrilled with her position as head bishop of the infirmary and she took her job very seriously. She had served as head bishop in Manuela’s place for a year. As far as she was concerned, serving others through medicinal practice was what she was born to do. With the bottle in her palm, she slowly pulled the liquid out into the needle’s reservoir. Once Mercedes had measured the appropriate amount, she gave the needle a couple taps as to check for any air. Once she was pleased, she left the small, crowded medicine closet for the adjacent room where three medical beds were lined up near the windows. “It’s such a beautiful day today!” Mercedes chirped as the sunlight poured in and illuminated the walls of the infirmary. Are you okay?” Mercedes asked.

“Yeah...just...just nervous about...you know...everything. It…it works, right? I mean…this can’t…not work…right?” Dorothea asked with apprehension in her voice asked.

“Don’t worry. It works. I promise. There are some side effects, headaches mainly. You’ll notice your skin becoming radiant and dewy in a couple weeks. Let me know if the headaches get too bad. Mercedes said honestly, opening a medicine jar and obtaining a cotton swab.

“You’re the best, you know that?” She said, exhaling heavily. Mercedes smiled.

“Do you have other questions or concerns?”

“I don’t think so. I’m ready.” Dorothea said, putting her fears aside and relying on Mercedes’ expertise.

“Great. I suggest we put it in your left hip. You’re going to be sore for a couple hours.” Mercedes explained, prepping to spot. “Lean over, relax into the bed. Put your weight on your right hip.” She said swabbing the exposed skin at the opposite hip. “Here we go! Big stick...” Mercedes cautioned, as the needle made contact. She paid close attention, emptying the needle’s contents into Dorothea’s flesh. “There…you’ll feel a burning sensation. It will dissipate shortly.” Mercedes turned around to dispose of the needle and take a clipboard from the table behind her. She wrote some notes and checked some boxes on the paper.

“Oh…yeah…yeah that burns…wow.” Dorothea winced, leaning over on her fists into the mattress.

“Keep your weight on your right hip.” Mercedes instructed, scribbling some more notes onto her clipboard. “I need you to sign here and initial here.” She pointed, handing over the clipboard.

“So, how long…does it take to…to work? To be effective?” Dorothea asked, apprehension creeping back into her voice. Mercedes glanced up at the clock as the sound of the pen scratched across the paper.

“It’s been working for about five minutes.” Mercedes smiled.

“Oh! Oh my that’s…I thought I’d have to wait for…I don’t know…longer?” Dorothea felt fluttery surprise in her stomach. Mercedes shook her head.

“Not at all. You’re all set! I’ll see you in three months for your next one.”

“Thank you again, for everything, Mercedes.” Dorothea reiterated sincerely before leaving the infirmary.

* * *

Outside, across from the stables, was a vacant field where the wyverns rested when they weren’t patrolling the skies or roaming the hillsides. “Mmmrreew!” The wyvern protested.

“Hey! Hey, now! You know better than that.” Claude said, patting his wyvern on her head. She let out a soft coo. And then another friendly growl as she stubbornly started to roll to her side.

“Heeey! C’mon! Get up! No one likes a pouty wyvern!” Claude coaxed her as she intentionally disobeyed and rolled upside down, peering at him with the eyes of a stubborn toddler. “Noooo! We aren’t getting into this. We are trimming your nails and that’s the way it will be!”

“Mmmrrrreeeerrr!” Was the response he got from her. Claude shook his head and hung a towel on the hook above the stall where she stayed.

“Well! She’s on her own agenda today.” A voice called to him.

“Seteth, my man!” Claude greeted him, extending his hand in his typical fashion. It wasn’t really a handshake; it was more of a slap and grab. “That she is, brother. That she is.” Seteth laughed at the wyvern’s cute disobedience.

“I think she may be wanting to lay an egg. She’s acted like this for a week.” Claude observed. Seteth nodded.

“Perhaps. She’s the only female wyvern on this side of the stalls so she’ll be easy to monitor. I’ll keep an eye on her and see if she acts like she wants to make a nest.” Seteth smiled as she tucked her feet in toward her body and cooed at Claude. “She’s a good-tempered wyvern. Clearly, she doesn’t want her nails trimmed. I hope she does lay an egg. It would be nice to have a hatchling.” Claude nodded in agreement. He said before picking up the bucket of feed in front of the stall to carry on with his feeding duties.

“Did they all eat on the other side?” Claude asked, following Seteth as he emptied feed into the next stall.

“Yes. Only these three left.”

“Are they getting any meat today?” Claude asked.

“The fish monger is going to bring all the leftovers from today’s cleaning. I’m sure they will all be very excited.” Seteth assured him.

“Excellent. I need to head back to the monastery. I’m not going to try and fight her to trim her nails.” Claude said.

“Can’t say as I blame you. She’s in no mood.” Seteth said, giving Claude a wave. It was the perfect day for a brisk walk back to the monastery. As he approached the stables, Claude noticed that the horses had been let out to pasture to enjoy the unusually warm day. They all looked so contented. He waved to Marianne as he passed through toward the courtyard.

“Ya’ know. I can’t decide what I hate about you more...your perfect, perpetual tan or that flashy-ass smile.” A familiar voice called out to Claude. He laughed and hurried across the courtyard to the common plaza. “Look at you! Put a shirt on! That body is disgusting!” Shamir greeted Claude, rolling her eyes and laughing at Claude’s enviable, bow-trained arms and flawless torso.

“It’s damn hot down there where the wyverns stay. I haven’t had my shirt off outside since November!” Claude defended himself.

“Yeah, well cover up. I’ve got targets out and I re-threaded the silver bow. I want to see what you can do with it today.” Shamir instructed him. Claude trained with Shamir frequently. He had grown close to her over the time they spent drawing bows, changing bows and breaking bows. The two made their way toward the sauna. They would be practicing behind the training grounds today rather than inside.

“And about that brave bow? When do I get to mess around with that?” Claude asked. Shamir was entirely distracted because as they rounded the corner of the sauna to the outside wall of training grounds, she caught sight of Catherine and Felix coming out of the front door. She watched, eyes locked on Catherine until Catherine looked up and caught sight of Shamir and Claude. Shamir gave Catherine a small wave and an enchanting smile.

“Watch out, boy! She’ll chew you up!” Catherine yelled over to Claude, causing Shamir’s face to turn pink.

“Ooooh, she’s so full of shit…” Shamir said, a stupid smile plastered on her face. She shook her head and diverted her eyes to the ground, feeling the heat in her cheeks.

“You best not rough me up too much today. I gotta’ look good in the sauna later.” Claude cautioned.

“Oh please…a sauna date? With who?” Shamir asked.

“No, no date. But that doesn’t mean I won’t leave with one.” Claude gave her a wink. Shamir shoved him away from her.

“Goddess! You’re full of shit too! Get over there! Get those arrows on your back! I’ll be there in a minute.”

* * *

The second-floor dormitory was quiet. It was far too beautiful to be locked up inside ones’ dorm.

“Dimitri...” Byleth whispered, placing her hand on his warm, bare, shoulder. She paused and waited for a response. “Dimitri...”

“Mmmm...” he mumbled, not moving. Byleth brushed the hair away from his neck, she could tell by the way it felt that he needed to take a long shower today and get clean. She leaned over and kissed his neck...he smelled like he needed to get clean as well.

“Hey...it’s a beautiful day. Maybe you could get up for a bit? Get you a shower, get outside?” She said. Dimitri rolled over, lazily opening his eyes and focusing his gaze to Byleth. He let out a heavy breath.

“Doubt it...” he answered apathetically.

“You haven’t eaten since yesterday morning. Maybe some fruit in the courtyard and chamomile tea? Wouldn’t that be nice?” Byleth coaxed him, pushing dirty clumps of blond hair from his face. Dimitri didn’t say anything. He sunk into his pillow once more and rolled over, facing the wall. Byleth’s heart sunk. She looked to the ceiling and closed her eyes for a moment. “You have to get up...” she said, her voice laced with defeat.

“I’m fine right here...” Dimitri answered.

“Please...Dimitri...at least...at least let me help you get to the shower. You haven’t had one in four days and...I can…smell you.”

“Then leave...” was his response. Byleth felt a lump in her throat.

“No, it’s...it’s not like that.” She said, doing her best to swallow the emotions swelling up in her throat. “I just...you need to clean up. It would make you feel better. Come on, I’ll change your bed if you’ll just get in the shower...please?” Byleth begged of him. Dimitri rolled over to face her again, his face expressionless, almost with complete void. Blue eyes met Byleth’s but peered straight through her.

“What’s the point?” he asked weakly. Byleth leaned forward, her forehead nearly resting on his.

“You’re just having a rough week. Last week was better and next week will be better than this one. I know it’s hard but you have to get up. You have to have a little bit of routine even if it’s just for an hour. People ask about you…I’m running out of reasons as to why you haven’t been out of bed.” Byleth said.

“I’ve never asked you to make excuses for me.” Dimitri said clearing his throat.

“I’m not making excuses. I just…I hate telling people over and over that you’re lying here in bed miserable. C’mon. Twenty-minute shower, some tea, new sheets. You can do it.” Byleth coached. Dimitri exhaled heavily again and kicked the covers away to the floor.

According to Mercedes, his official diagnosis was post-traumatic stress disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, depression, survivor’s guilt and intermittent night terrors. Mercedes had monitored the conditions for a year and a half. Symptoms came and went, symptoms changed, and for the past six months, the symptoms had been just short of intolerable. Mercedes was considering changing one of Dimitri’s five medications that Byleth managed. The truth was that Mercedes was beginning to worry more about Byleth than she was Dimitri. She knew Dimitri could be managed but Byleth had essentially turned into his caregiver for the past six months while the symptoms raged, leaving Dimitri broken and debilitated. Byleth had been so consumed in Dimitri’s care, she had neglected her own.

She gave Dimitri a soft smile as he slung his feet to the floor, sitting up for the first time in nearly twenty-four hours.

“There you go. See? Not so bad.” She said, rubbing her hand over his knee. I have everything you need for a nice shower by the door. It’s been there since yesterday. When you come back, I’ll have this bed changed and some Chamomile ready. Byleth’s voice was soft and comforting. Dimitri sat there, staring at the floor, trying to muster up the courage to stand up. Byleth watched him carefully, blond hair, badly needing brushed, falling forward around his face. She was internally cheerleading him to take that first step. She knew that if he would just get up, he would get to the shower. Byleth watched in silence, waiting. After a couple minutes that felt like hours, Dimitri stood. Byleth sighed, closing her eyes in relief.


	2. Learning How to Smile

Ingrid sat at the dining hall table with her book open, underlining text with one hand and balancing a roll in the other.

“Hey...” Sylvain greeted her as he slid into the chair across the table while watching the room.

“Hey. Why weren’t you at drill yesterday? Alois was asking.” Ingrid asked.

“About that...” Sylvain began. He was still watching the activity in the dining hall. He tapped his fingers on the table and leaned in toward Ingrid. “...I need a huge favor from you.”

Ingrid raised her eyebrows and looked up from the sentence she was underlining. “Go on…”

“Okay...see that girl up there? The pretty one going through the line right now?” Sylvain pointed, grabbing Ingrid’s arm, pulling her in closer to him and shifting her focus to the front of the dining hall.

“Yeah...” Ingrid said, shaking her head.

“I need you to give her a place to stay tonight. She’s here at the monastery visiting her sister....her sister that I was fucking yesterday when I was supposed to be at drill.” Sylvain confessed.

“You cannot be serious...I don’t even know that girl!” Ingrid complained.

“Ingrid...her sister is smokin’ hot and she’s fine with me pulling out. You are doing this for me. That girl’s name is Daniella. You two might hit it off, I don’t know.” Sylvain said, squeezing the base of Ingrid’s neck and scratching her back. She looked at him with the most contorted and confused expression.

“Your timing with a javelin sucks...And you think you’re going to be better with that!?” She asked, pointing to Sylvain’s crotch.

“Whoooooa, whoa….waaaait a minute. You’re right...about the javelin thing. But let me tell ya’, you underestimate my talent. I have never had a close call.” Sylvain said winking at her.

“Oh Goddess…” Ingrid rolled her eyes. “Okay…what exactly do I need to do for your good time?”

“Aahhh, you are the best, Ingrid!” Sylvain said, shaking her shoulder and giving her his best, victorious smile. “The sooner she can get into your dorm, the better. That girl literally has no place to go while she’s visiting. Her sister doesn’t live here full time. She stays with a friend down in town normally.”

“When exactly are you going to be…. occupied…because I’m going to need some of Felix’s whiskey for this favor.” Ingrid bargained. Sylvain laughed cautiously.

“I have stable duty with Ferdinand then she and I are having dinner. After dinner…dessert. Go into Felix’s room. He won’t be there today, nor will he care that you’re there. There’s a cabinet on the back wall…bottom drawer... there’s four bottles. Take what you want.” Sylvain instructed. Ingrid nodded.

“So, I’m basically babysitting all day and all night.” She said.

“Aaaaaand until about nine tomorrow morning because I have a feeling that…” Sylvain looked around and lowered his voice, “…she gives great morning head and I need to find out if she swallows.”

Ingrid shook her head as Sylvain scratched her back. “Alright, as much as I would love to sit here and make you scratch my back for another ten minutes, I’m going to make my whiskey run and clean up a little before my visitor arrives. You go tell her where my dorm is. Send her up in a half hour.” Ingrid said before standing up and organizing her things in her bag.

“I’ll take you into town for this. We’ll have steak. Promise! You pick the day.” Sylvain promised Ingrid as she packed up her things to leave.

“Sure…whatever…” she said absently, leaving the dining hall and heading to the 2nd floor. She hurried up the steps and to the top platform before re-adjusting her bag and starting down the hallway toward Felix’s room. She knocked on the door twice, waiting for a response. When it wasn’t immediately answered, she tried the handle, letting herself in. One thing Ingrid adored was the way Felix smelled and it hung in this room. It was hard to describe…clean…and soft with an edge of something masculine. Ingrid put her bag down at the door and walked to the back cabinet, opening the bottom drawer. She grabbed a bottle, closed the drawer and walked back to her bag. She opened the top to shuffle things around and jam bottle inside. As she slung it on her shoulder, her attention was diverted to Felix’s unmade bed. His bed was never unmade. Ingrid’s eyes widened at what else she saw. She gasped and reflexively put her hand over her mouth.

* * *

Back on the 1st floor, Hubert, Lysithea, Dorothea, and Linhardt had met at the training grounds to practice casting spells together. It wasn’t unusual that the four of them trained together. Bouncing techniques and ideas off one another was never a bad thing. As the four of them warmed up, Lysithea kept glancing in Dorothea’s direction. She tried to focus her attention to the opposite wall but her gaze wandered back to Dorothea. She scowled and moved close enough to Dorothea to wipe two fingers across Dorothea’s face. Lysithea looked at her fingertips as if to find something.

“What was that about?” Dorothea asked, continuing her warmup.

“Your skin looks wet.” Lysithea said, rubbing her fingers together still hoping something would appear.

“Moisturizer.” Dorothea said, shaking her head.

“Oh…Hey, guess what? I’m probably going to get recruited out of my house.” Lysithea said.

“Yeah? Black Eagles?” Dorothea questioned.

“Blue Lions. The Professor has been talking to me about recruitment.” Lysithea beamed.

“Well, you’re not the only one. She’s talked to me about recruitment too.” Dorothea said. Lysithea looked as if she had just been hit by an onslaught.

“What are you talking about? Why would she talk to you about recruitment?” Lysithea asked, trying to wrap her mind around the fact.

“Oh, excuse me. I didn’t realize you were the only one who could be recruited.” Dorothea said sarcastically. “She’s talking to Ferdinand also. He told me about it.”

“But…that’s…that’s not right. It needs to be me. She approached me!” Lysithea said, getting herself worked up. “…I’ve worked my ass off to impress the professor. If anyone is getting recruited, it’s me!”

“Okay…relax. She can recruit whoever she wants. It’s not a big deal.” Dorothea said calmly.

“It is a big deal!!! I didn’t put all this time and work in for nothing!” Lysithea insisted. Dorothea looked at her rather confused.

“O….kay? Why are you so hell bent on getting recruited to the Blue Lions?” she asked.  
“Annette.” Lysithea answered. “She’s such an amazing mage. I could learn a lot from her. I want to train and battle alongside her. She’s so dedicated. I mean, yeah she can be aloof but…I’ve been studying her style. I almost have Excalibur mastered. I don’t know if she can cast that one.” Lysithea laughed. “Why would the professor be talking to you when she has Annette and she could have me? I can throw Dark Spikes. You can’t even throw a critical hit. You never have.” Lysithea reminded her.

Dorothea raised her eyebrows. “Yeah…sure. But, Lysithea…you can’t do anything else except cast spells.”

“What are you saying?” Lysithea asked defensively.

“I’m just…I’m saying that both of the mages in the Blue Lions House do more than just cast spells. Mercedes can use Recover spells and use a bow. Annette can cast, heal and ride.” Dorothea said. Suddenly, Lysithea was at a loss for words. Her mind whirred wondering that she may have missed something.

“Alright mages! Let’s take turns casting.” Hubert instructed. They all took their places along the wall, allowing each plenty of room to cast spells. Hubert cast an impressive Banshee spell, receiving applause from his fellow mages. Next, Linhardt went through his ritual yawn and head roll before casting, landing a beautiful Excalibur cloud of dust across the training room floor. He too received much approval from Lysithea, Dorothea and Hubert.

“Nice job, Linhardt!” Hubert praised. Lysithea smiled because she was confident, she could throw the best spell today. She went through her ritual as well, casting her best Luna spell. She too received positive praise.

“Good hands.” Dorothea complimented her.

“Thank you.” Lysithea said, backing up against the wall. Dorothea rubbed each foot in the dirt before peering down at her hands and taking her stance. She took a deep breath and focused her attention to the other wall. Once she had the spell live, she rotated her entire body into it, her footwork changing the opposite of everyone else who had already cast spells. She let out a huff and cast her critical hit Thoron. She smiled all over, looking at the scorch mark in the dirt.

“Wow, Dorothea! That footwork was something!” Hubert complimented.

“That’s a great hit.” Linhardt said rather absently. Lysithea glanced between Dorothea and the scorch mark in the floor.

“Yes…” Dorothea said to herself, pumping her fist discreetly. She was thrilled with this progress. Lysithea shook her head in frustration.

“Where the _fuck_ did you learn to do _that_!?” she asked. Dorothea smiled, still looking at the scorched dirt.

* * *

The training grounds was active today to say the least. Two hours later, after all the smoke and remnants of casted spells had been cleaned, Catherine found herself engrossed in her prize student.

“Face the mirror. Now, extend your right arm up like you’re using a Levin Sword. Bend the elbow. There. See that? See this line?” Catherine explained to Felix, running her palm from his elbow to his ribs. Felix nodded. “The idea is squat low and pop up. Let this arm create a natural arc. The tip of the sword and natural motion this arm wants to take will do the work for you. Now, put this left hand back. It’s going to help with that momentum. Reach for my hand. Feel that rotation? You’ll pop out of that stance. I know it feels overextended but that will force the rotation.”

“Yeah…that’s…really rotated. I’ll get used to it. I’ll practice” Felix assured her. Catherine laughed.

“I know you’ll practice. Okay, get lower. It’s like an assassin’s stance but a little lower. Sit into it.” Catherine instructed, pushing down on Felix’s shoulders. Right there. There it is, left hand back, right arm straight, bent at the elbow and down low. When you pop out of this, you want both feet off the ground. It’s not a full rotation, just a half. So, when you make that arc, you’ll land with the left foot forward for the follow up forward lunge.”

“Ooooh, it’s a follow up attack.” Felix stated rather than asked.

“Yes! You catch them off guard and then follow it up. This rotation helps create that forward momentum. Turn to the right.” Catherine instructed again. “Okay, left arm goes back and push… push forward…straight. Feel it? Your entire upper body is moving forward but your feet are planted.” Catherine said running her hands up Felix’s back. Felix shook his head.

“I’ll work on it. Can I have a week?” he asked.

“Of course.” Catherine said, picking up her bottle of water near the mirror.

“Do you have any time to work on speed drills with me tomorrow?”

“Any time after 1:00. But…” Catherine paused. “…there is a chance I will be hung over as hell tomorrow so if I bail on you, I apologize in advance.” Felix laughed. He _laughed_. Catherine was…charmed.

“Dare I ask why that is?” Felix wondered.

“You know…I swear…I think that’s the first time in two years you’ve laughed during a training session.” Catherine remarked. That only made Felix laugh again.

“I’m sorry…it’s just…what are you doing tonight that’s going to end up in that bad of a hangover…oooooh wait. Birthday, right?” he asked.

“You got it. Oh, honey. You have no idea the wild life I lead outside of these training grounds.” Catherine said with a wink. Felix laughed at her again. “I like it.” Catherine started. “I like that laugh…I like it a lot. Don’t stop. Go break some hearts with it. By the way, what did you do for your birthday? I realize I never asked you last month.” And that question, made Felix smile more sincerely than ever. He shook his head.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you…”

* * *

In the back room of where the wyverns stayed, smoke escaped into the air. “Ha! Flush, baby.” Petra said, sliding all the coins from the middle of the table and ashing her cigarette. Claude shook his head.

“Damn. You’re cleaning me out.” He scooped up the cards, shuffled them and dealt another hand. “You need to stop smoking.”

“Mmm…” Petra began, lighting another cigarette. “You need to start winning…” she said, taking a long drag before exhaling a cloud of smoke in front of Claude. He examined his cards and threw some more coins into the middle of the table. He began to change them around as Petra did the same.

“That I do.” Claude said, drawing two more cards.

“Is there ever anyone else down here besides you?” Petra asked, seeing as she and Claude were alone with the Wyverns.

“Just Seteth, but he’s usually never here this late.” Claude said, drawing another card.

“So, if I asked you…if I could…bring someone…here…” Petra asked tentatively but it was enough to get Claude’s attention.

“I would be lying to you if I told you I hadn’t thought the same.” He began. “No one comes to the wyvern grounds. You bring anyone you want under one condition…you hear a hungry wyvern, you feed him…or her.” Claude warned. Petra laughed.

“Of course!” Petra said, taking another drag.

“Is it…who I think it is?” Claude asked. Petra didn’t immediately answer. He studied her as Petra rearranged her cards.

“Please…I wish…” Petra said, drawing another card. Claude nodded. There was silence between them again. “What about you? I know who you’re ambitiously after.” Claude shook his head.

“What do you mean _ambitiously_?” Claude asked, smiling at Petra over his cards.

“Well…I mean…she’s not exactly attainable right now.” Petra said.

“Is that so?” Claude asked. “She may be…I won’t know until I try, am I right?” Petra puffed on her cigarette again.

“Like I said…ambitious but you go for it.” Petra said, drawing another card.

“You’ve never answered who it is you’re wanting to bring back here.” Claude said once again.

“If I tell you, you can’t say a word about it because it’s not…anything serious. It’s just…two girls having a good time.” Petra explained.

“My lips are sealed.” Claude assured her.

“Edelgard.” Petra said without hesitation. Claude was in the middle of drawing a card but stopped. This was the last name he expected to leave Petra’s mouth.

“What!? Edel….what!? She’s…isn’t she…” Claude said stupidly, not finishing his thought.

“It’s just…it’s nothing. She just wants to…test the waters.” Petra said. “I’m more excited than I care to admit.”

“You know she’s been testing the waters with Hubert for several months now…if that’s what the kids are calling it.” Claude reminded her.

“I am well aware of that fact.” Petra said, nearly finishing her cigarette.

“I don’t know, Petra…that shit’s all up in your House. You better be very careful.” Claude advised her.

“You want to talk to _me_ about being careful? Hello!? You drool like a hungry dog when you’re around _her_. Don’t worry. I’ve got it under control.” Petra promised him. There was silence between them again. “Besides…I haven’t been with anyone since…well, you know.”

“That’s who I thought you were talking about bringing here. I thought…just maybe…you know, the two of you reconciled or something.” Claude said. Petra shook her head and sighed.

“Today is her birthday. I guarantee you she’s had several shots and is underneath Catherine right about now moaning and writhing.” Petra said, defeatedly. Claude furrowed his brow.

“Hold up. _Underneath_ Catherine?” He asked, his tone perplexing.

“It’s her birthday! Goddess! Give her a break! She’s not _that_ aggressive all the time. She can be sweet and submissive when she wants.” Petra smiled and lit another cigarette.

“I love how you have such fondness in your tone when you talk about ‘er.” Claude said sincerely. Petra got her cigarette going.

“Listen, what happened between us was entirely my fault. She deserves everything that I couldn’t deliver.” Petra said honestly.

“Sounds like you’re moving on then.” Claude said, laying down his head.

“Yeah…I’m moving on but…I don’t know that I’ll ever get over Shamir.” Petra confessed, laying her cards down. She laughed.

“HA! You are so my bitch tonight.” She said, taking Claude’s money again.

* * *

It was after hours at the infirmary but Byleth wanted it that way. She was grateful that Mercedes agreed to meet with her. Dimitri’s signature on the paperwork Mercedes was reviewing was enough to give Byleth all the power to make all decisions as they related to his medical needs. It was a grand responsibility. Here she was tonight with Mercie to discuss his current status.

“He’s so unmotivated. His attitude is terrible. There are days I can reach him and other days where he seems unreachable. Some days he...is ready to snap me in two and then there are days when he just weeps in my arms.” Byleth paused and dried her eyes. She shook her head quickly. “I’m sorry...I’m sorry. I’m complaining. I shouldn’t be complaining. I should be supportive. I should be...giving more than what I am.” Her body language was completely rattled.

Mercedes looked at her beloved professor with kind, tender eyes. She reached out and took Byleth’s hands in hers. “It’s okay to talk about it. It’s okay to feel whatever it is you’re feeling in the moment. You can talk to me about whatever it is you’re going through. I’m not going to judge. Anytime. We can talk anytime.” Byleth shook her head, watching her own hands intertwined with Mercie’s. They sat in silence for a moment before Mercedes pulled her hands away to retrieve Dimitri’s chart. “Do you notice his behavior changing when he takes the anxiety pill? We could probably cut that one in half and see if there’s a difference.”

“I am...exhausted most days.” Byleth shared, not answering Mercedes’ question. “Completely exhausted. Mentally...physically...emotionally...just exhausted.” Mercedes put the clipboard aside and focused her attention on Byleth. “He hasn’t even said thank you! In nearly seven months I haven’t heard any inclination of thanks!” Byleth shook her head quickly. “And I’m not...I’m not even saying I need thanks I just...I need…I need someone who...who...” Byleth fought her tears. “...who doesn’t look the other way.” She wiped her eyes. “I….think I’m starting to hit my limits. I learned a long time ago how to deal with the night terrors. That’s easy. What I can’t deal with is his constant negativity and how…how hurtful he can be. I can only be a cheerleader so much.” Byleth and Mercedes sat in silence again, Mercedes’ soft eyes studying Byleth’s troubled expression. “I’m starting to question my ability to lead the House. Dimitri and I have always been a team…that’s long gone. Ugh…I’m sorry. You asked me about the anxiety meds. Yes. He sleeps after he takes the anxiety pill. It seems to knock him out within an hour. He stays asleep for maybe five hours?” Byleth said.

Mercedes shook her head and grabbed the clipboard again to take some notes. “What about the anti-depressant?”

“That’s fine. He doesn’t have a lot of side effects with that one. Just decreased appetite.” Byleth shared. Mercedes looked up from her clipboard and sighed through pursed lips.

“I…have to ask you something very uncomfortable. The anti-psychotic…for the post-traumatic symptoms…it has some considerable side effects. Muscle aches, dry cough, dry mouth, blurry vision, nausea, restlessness…um…decreased…libido?” Byleth put her fingers on her forehead.

“Yes…yes to all. All those symptoms are present.” She said.

“When was the last time you were…intimate with him?” Mercedes asked, dreading the answer she was about to get because in her heart, she already knew. Byleth rolled her eyes to the ceiling and thought.

“Oh my…um…hmmm…” she thought. “Uuhhh…like…maybe…eight? Nine months ago? No….ten months? Yeah…probably more like ten months.” Mercie nodded again.

“Alright. I don’t want to pull him off anything immediately but let’s start with adjusting the anxiety medication to a lower dose and see how he responds. Also, the anti-psychotic…cut all those pills in half. Let’s try them at one half a day and see if that helps any. And…” Mercedes paused and took Byleth’s hands again. “I want you to talk to someone once a week. It can be me, Seteth, Manuela... It doesn’t have to be lengthy. You just…you need to touch base with someone. Are you willing?” Mercedes asked. Byleth nodded emphatically.

“Yes…yes, I’m willing…I would like that very much.” She said before giving Mercedes a desperately needed hug.


	3. Easy Lovers

“Now, instead of a baked potato, I’d like the lobster tail.” Ingrid gave the server a wink and handed over her menu. Since this was on Sylvain, she wasn’t holding back. The evening outside was cool but the fireplace roared much to the delight of everyone dining tonight. Ingrid took the liberty to pour Sylvain a glass of wine before pouring her own. “I need to handle your sexual dirty work more often if this is the kind of evening, I get out of it.” She held up her glass to Sylvain’s before he clinked the rim into hers. He laughed.

“Last night was pretty great but I’ll be honest with you; as good as that girl was. She was _amazingly_ uninteresting. She couldn’t hold a conversation to save her life.” Ingrid shook her head.

“Well, her sister was equally uninteresting. At one point, I started reading and before I knew it, she had fallen asleep. On a one to ten, I give my evening a two.” Sylvain laughed.

“Solid eight.” He said, following Ingrid’s rating scale.

“Factor out the sex” Ingrid said.

“Oh, definitely a two.” He admitted. Ingrid smiled and swirled her wine around.

“So, a girl spends an evening with you and she automatically gets six points if you sleep with ‘er?”

“Not if she’s bad! There are many variables.” Sylvain insisted. Ingrid was tickled.

“Okay, okay sure…let’s…go with that. Now…something _very_ important.” She began, sitting her glass down and throwing her hands out to her sides. “I found a little surprise yesterday and I’ve been _dying_ to ask you about it.” Sylvain’s expression was that of genuine intrigue.

“I went into Felix’s room as you instructed me, and I saw a black satin robe in his bed. Now, either you know something about it, or Felix likes to feel pretty on the weekends.” Ingrid said, picking up her wine again. Sylvain’s eyes grew three times in size.

“Oh shit, _that’s_ still there!?” Sylvain questioned.

“Still!?” Ingrid said, just as surprised. “So, you _do_ know something about it.” Sylvain nodded and gave her a most devious smile.

“I know a _lot_ about it.”

“Then why are you acting vague!? I need details, NOW!” Ingrid said excitedly. Sylvain took another drink and exhaled heavily.

“If I tell you, you have to _swear_ to me you won’t say a _word_ about it to _anyone_.” Sylvain emphasized.

“You know I won’t say anything.” She said.

“Here. Swear on this bottle.” Sylvain said, extending the wine bottle to Ingrid.

“Right, because the oath of alcohol never failed anyone.” She said dryly, putting her hand on the bottle. “I swear I won’t say anything about what you know about Felix.”

“Perfect.” Sylvain exhaled heavily again. “Okay…. where do I even start with this…” he took a long drink of wine. “Who is…. the _least_ likely girl at this monastery you would pick if I said that Felix was seeing someone…like an actual boyfriend, girlfriend relationship.” Sylvain asked.

“Ingrid gasped. Oh, my goddess…we’re going to need more wine…” Ingrid said, completely shocked.

“I know. Who do you think that girl would be?” he asked again.

“Bernadetta!” Ingrid said with confidence, throwing Sylvain off his course of thought.

“That’s…that’s actually an extremely good guess. Alright, 2nd to last girl you would pick if I said Felix was seeing someone.”

“Flayn!” Ingrid said.

“Huh…. that would be messed up. Okay, 3rd to last…” Sylvain encouraged her.

“Hilda!” Ingrid said excitedly.

“I actually never thought about option…no, 4th to last…”

“Um…Oh! Marianne!” she said tiumphantly.

“No…no, 5th to last….” Sylvain said, shaking his head.

“Oh for the love of…TELL ME!!!” Ingrid insisted, hardly able to stay in her chair. Sylvain laughed.

“Alright, alright, alright….” He eyed Ingrid over his wine glass, taking another long drink. He looked to his left and right as if someone were listening to him before fixing his eyes on Ingrid again. “…Dorothea Arnault….”

“NOOOOO!” Ingrid exclaimed, throwing her hands over her face.

“Yessssss….” Sylvain said.

“Nooooo! Sylvain!!!” Ingrid said, flustered.

“I know…I know, Ingrid….I….yeah….” Sylvain said.

“Doro….I just can’t believe it. I _can not_ believe it. She is…she is a _woman_ among girls, Sylvain! She is _beautiful!_ She is…” Ingrid paused and polished off the wine in her glass. “How…how in the _hell_ does someone like Felix get… _Dorothea Arnault_!? How did _that combination_ even…that’s like…like.”

“…Like _anyone_ getting you!” Sylvain finished her thought. Ingrid twisted her brow.

“Okay? That’s very kind. But _Dorothea!?_ What else do you know? Tell me more…I NEED MORE!”

“Funny, that’s what she said.” Sylvain said, refilling Ingrid’s glass.

“NOOO!” Ingrid said, shock consuming her once again.” Sylvain nodded.

“Ingrid…Felix is _completely_ smitten by her. We’re talking…rearrange his training schedule for her kind of smitten…he is getting laid all the time. All. The. Time.” Sylvain said, tapping his finger on the table as he said it.

“WHAT!? Nooooo. He’s so uptight! How could he even…” Ingrid shrieked in a half whisper. “This is…I can’t believe this…” Ingrid said. “Oooh and I can’t believe how good this looks.” She said, commenting on the steak the waitress placed before her. “Thank you.”

“To everything you’re saying, I know. She has done a fantastic job of softening Felix up a little. To answer your other question, I don’t know _how_ they got together but I do know it’s been a thing for at least couple months. You should spend some time with Dorothea. I know she’s good friends with Ferdinand but aside from him I don’t think she really hangs out with anyone else.” Ingrid shrugged, cutting into her steak like a beast who hadn’t eaten in three days.

“Yeah, I don’t even know her that well. She seems nice and all. I’m not sure what we have in common.” Ingrid said.

“You are _both_ women among girls.” Sylvain said. Ingrid laughed.

“Don’t even try to flirt with me because I’m already flirting with this steak.” Sylvain looked at her sincerely.

“That’s not me flirting with you, that’s me being truthful.”

* * *

Dorothea had the most awfully located dorm of any others in the monastery. Situated between Petra on one side and Bernadetta on the other and in the middle of the 1st floor; it was… _not_ ideal. There were _always_ people in the grassy common area, and it was a high traffic pass-through to the set of stairs at the end of the 1st floor dormitorys. Because of its terrible, noisy location, it was ruggedly soundproofed…

Dorothea let a deep moan escape her as she raked her blunt nails up Felix’s back. He didn’t mind, in fact he encouraged it. As far as he was concerned, his back looking mauled and maimed meant he did _a lot_ of things right. The fact that Dorothea would slather all the deep, pink streaks and irritation in aloe after the fact, was just a bonus. “Harder…harder…” she begged of him, breathlessly. Dorothea didn’t _have_ to beg for anything…but she wanted to. “ _Felix…”_ she hissed. Felix adored hearing his name leave her lips so earnestly and so urgently. Dorothea _needed_ him…she needed him…faster… _deeper_.

“You’re so _warm…_ so _tight…”_ Felix’s words hit Dorothea’s ear in a huffed pant and his hips hit hers in wet, slippery, fervor. Dorothea whimpered, digging her fingernails into his shoulders.

“ _Felix…Aaah…Felix…”_ she whined against his temple. Stray strands of long, dark hair clung to the sweat on Dorothea’s neck. Felix’s dirty, heated words against her ear only made her squirm more. Felix pushed himself away from her, sitting back on his knees to take a moment to catch his breath and calm his enthusiasm. He could feel and smell Dorothea _all_ over him…her sweet, vanilla-pear, scent consuming him. Before Dorothea could plead him not to stop, Felix slid her pillow underneath her hips, pulling her body down on the mattress and spreading her legs further apart. She was already a glossy mess and she was about to get messier. He motioned for her to wrap her legs around his waist, slipping higher up her body and sliding his arms underneath her shoulders.

“Hold on…” he softly cautioned, before his own hot breath collided with hers. Dorothea felt her body consumed as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and tilted her head back. Another plea escaped her throat; more intense, and more involuntary. She could feel Felix’s teeth graze the hot skin on her neck as the inside of her thighs trembled against his hips. “Oooh… _fuck…”_ was Felix’s way of warning Dorothea that he didn’t have much restraint left. She squeezed her fingertips into his back until they turned white.

“ _FELIX!”_ She didn’t attempt to constrain her pleasure-soaked cry for him. “ _FELIX!!”_ she repeated, in case she didn’t quite get the point across the first time. And if _that_ didn’t convey her intense approval, the way her thighs contracted did. Dorothea felt Felix’s arms tighten around her shoulders before his untamed moan spilled over her neck in a dampened huff. It matched the raging intensity of the spill inside her. Felix’s breath shuddered against her neck as intense pulse consumed him.

Dorothea could feel the sweat under her arms as her feverish grip on Felix’s shoulders changed to soft caress. She could feel his wild heartbeat against her chest, colliding with her own racing pulse. Dorothea allowed the weight of her spent body sink into the sweat-soaked sheets. She moved a hand to Felix’s head, drawing him into her neck. He moved his arms from under her shoulders and, in one motion, shifted his body beside her; motioning her against him. Still breathing heavily, Felix ran his palm in circles between her shoulder’s blades. Dorothea sighed contentedly; she could already feel sleep overcoming her. “Mmm….” She purred into Felix’s collarbone. “Felix, you are _so good_ …” she whispered. He hummed into the side of her head.

“You aren’t exactly mediocre…” he said with a chuckle. His breathing had entirely relaxed. He could feel Dorothea smile against his collarbone.

“Ooooh, I could fall asleep right now.” She said, weakly.

“Let’s do.” He said.

“We’re supposed to meet Ashe and Annette for dinner.” Dorothea reminded him.

“Aaaa, it’s okay. They’ll get over it.” Felix assured her, repeatedly kissing the top of her head.

* * *

Catherine took a deep breath and exhaled in pure contentment as she rolled over under the covers to face the set of eyes peering into hers. She crossed her hands underneath the pillow and inhaled the scent of fruity floral perfume and vodka. She laughed sweetly, causing Shamir to laugh with her.

“What?” Shamir asked, not trying the slightest to hide the smile plastered on her face. Catherine shook her head, adjusting the pillow beneath her.

“You…look as if you had a _very_ happy birthday.” Shamir laughed at Catherine, burying her face in the pillow.

“I had the _best_ birthday.” She said, moving closer to Catherine. Shamir’s expression didn’t change as she reached out and pushed rose tinged blonde layers from Catherine’s face. Catherine shifted around to her back, reaching her arms around Shamir and pulling her lips into her own. Shamir had to be honest with herself. Catherine’s lips made her flip with butterflies. Catherine had so much confidence and authority…Shamir drank it up. Catherine let her calloused hands slide over Shamir’s back, pulling her tighter. She could feel dark purple hair fall to her cheeks. Catherine pulled her lips away from Shamir’s only barely.

“Look at you…” she said, softly, tucking stray purple strands behind Shamir’s ears. Shamir laughed innocently again. Catherine made her feel pampered. “Why do you have to look _so_ good in the morning?” Shamir smiled.

“Mmm…you’re one to talk. She said, sinking her lips into Catherine’s again. The feeling of Catherine’s tongue against her own was precisely what Shamir didn’t know she needed this morning. Shamir situated her elbows on either side of Catherine’s shoulders and pushed herself up. “You want me to put some tea on? I’ll even bring it to you right here when it’s ready.” Shamir questioned, raising her eyebrows.

“Since you are the reason my thighs ache this morning, I think that would be a great idea.” Catherine said with a smile. Shamir laughed again.

“I might be the reason your thighs ache but _you’re_ the reason I’m a little hoarse. I’ll be right back.” Shamir said, stealing one more kiss before leaving to put the tea on.

“What are your plans today?” Catherine asked. Rolling over to one side and pulling the covers down below her shoulders.

“Don’t have many. I promised to help out at market for a while.” She answered. “You?”

“I was supposed to train with Felix. I kinda’ missed that.” Shamir laughed and returned to bed with Catherine while they awaited their tea. “I had a _much_ sweeter deal right here.”

“Thank you…for changing your whole day around to be with me for my birthday.” Shamir said graciously.

“Please! I wouldn’t have had it any other way.” Catherine’s expression became serious. “I like you…a lot…” she paused and glanced down at her fingers, diverting her gaze from Shamir. “...a whole lot, actually. I think this could really be something…you an’ me.”

“I think so too. And, I want you to know that…I haven’t seen anyone else since you and I started spending time together.” Shamir said. Catherine studied her tender expression.

“Neither have I. You know what I find so damn sexy about you? You shoot straight with everyone. _Everyone_ knows where they stand with you and that’s…that’s hot.” Catherine said. Shamir turned bright pink and dug her face into the sheets.

“Aaaaggghh! You’re embarrassing me!” she said, laughing like a schoolgirl. 

“I’m serious!” Catherine said, reaching out and messing Shamir’s hair.

“Well, one thing’s for sure. I’m so relaxed with you. You make it easy and I’m not used to it being easy.” Shamir shared.

“That makes me really happy.” Catherine said. Shamir could hear the tea kettle screech at her.

“Tea’s ready. I’ll be right back.” Shamir promised, eyeing Catherine as long as she could before turning around to retrieve the tea.

* * *

“As we can see from this example, the attack was ineffective due to the weaknesses in the flanks…” Hanneman stood at the front of the room droning on and on about…actually, it wasn’t entirely clear what his seminar subject entailed. Hilda, Lorenz, Raphael, Leonie, Claude and Byleth were in attendance. Byleth was seated toward the right side of the room at the end of the long table. She had her head resting on her hand as she desperately tried to pay attention. Hanneman was difficult enough to listen to on a good day…and today wasn’t a good day. She closed her eyes, just for a moment but her head slid off her palm, waking her in a nervous instant. She jumped and shuffled the papers in front of her, re-adjusting herself, and staying upright. Claude, upon hearing her commotion, looked across the room; watching as the Professor made a feeble attempt at taking notes. Byleth reached to turn a page in her book, her hand shaking, which she quickly diverted to her face in an attempt to tame her nervous palm. Claude continued to watch Byleth, not paying attention to his own text. He watched her bow her head, her eyes closing heavily. “…. In fact, the Professor has a great instance of when she used a similar tactic. Byleth!” Hanneman called, “Would you care to tell us more about it?” She jumped again, gasping slightly this time.

“Um…” she cleared her throat and attempted to appear as if she had been following along the entire time. “…yeah…um…what page was it again?” she asked, absently flipping several pages at once, her hand trembling again.

“Tell us about the tactics you used at the battle where the bandits scattered.” Hanneman stated.

“Right…the bandits…yeah. Uuhhh…we…I…the archers. The archers were useful…. There…with the bandits.” she answered absnetly, rubbing her hollowed eyes.

“Exactly! Hanneman began, not missing a beat. “When the Professor led her troops…” and Hanneman began to drone again. Byleth sighed, staring at all of her disorganized materials.

“Damn it…” she mumbled. Byleth awkwardly gathered up her things on the table and pushed her chair back to excuse herself from the seminar. She walked quietly to the back doors and slipped into the hallway as discreetly as possible. 

Claude watched her leave, proceeding to clear the area before him. He tucked his book away and slung his bag over his shoulder before tailing after Byleth. He opened the door, seeing as she had made a spot for herself on a bench near the bulletin board. She had thrown her bag to the floor, some of its contents spilling out. Byleth was leaned forward with her face in her palms. She continuously rubbed her forehead and eyes all the while her foot nervously tapped against the stone floor.

“Hey, Teach.” Claude stated, slinging his bag down and taking a seat beside her. “Hey…hey C’mere. What’s going on?” He asked, putting an arm around her and pulling Byleth up against him. “You’re a mess.” Byleth lifted her head from her hands.

“Oh…Goddess…I’m sorry. I just…I just need a couple hours of sleep, that’s all. I’m fine.” She insisted. Her body spoke a different language however, as she slumped over against Claude’s shoulder. He smelled warm, like incense and the soft earth of the wyvern stables. Claude watched her with utmost concern.

“I apologize, Teach but…you’re _not_ fine. Your body is shaking, you look… _completely_ _exhausted._ ” Claude looked down to the top of her head, watching heavy eyes blink. Byleth looked so pale and fragile. “Look, I don’t mean to…pry…but does the this… have something to do with Dimitri?” Byleth nodded against him. She inhaled deeply.

“I…I’ve been awake…for over twenty-four hours. Dimitri had a night terror last night. It was a bad one. He had a _really_ hard time de-escalating. I sat up with him for several hours. By the time I got him calmed, it was 6:00 in the morning. That only meant it was time for me to get moving. I…I had a lot to do…today and…” Byleth’s voice trembled.

“Teach, it’s okay. You’re struggling…a lot.” Claude could feel Byleth’s head heavy against his shoulder as she sunk deeper into him. She didn’t immediately respond. “Teach?” he said again, giving her a nudge. Byleth jumped again.

“Mmm….I’m sorry. Did I…doze off again?” She asked.

“You’re struggling.” Claude repeated softly.

“I’m not…struggling _that_ much. Yeah, some days are harder than others and Dimitri got out the other day for a little while and…I got his clothes washed and things like that. It was nice. We had tea and…then he went back to bed. I think it was just a little too much for him. Maybe I shouldn’t have encouraged him to stay out as long as he did…I don’t know. P-Perhaps it was selfish of me.” Claude listened, watching feeling Byleth shake against him.

“You’ve been nothing but selfless to Dimitri. For today, I think it’s time you took care of you. How about a lavender bath? Soak in those lavender salts for a while, get you into bed and then knock out to the world for a while. Dimitri will be fine.” Byleth rolled her head over and looked at him as if she were surrendering in battle. “It doesn’t make you any less caring, Teach.” Claude said soaking up Byleth’s defeated eyes.

“Uuugghhh a bath…yes. That’s where I need to start.” she said.

“Let’s go. I’ll get you all situated and let you indulge in your alone time. If anyone asks where you are the rest of the day, I’ll tell them you are very busy.” Claude said, rubbing his hand over Byleth’s back.


	4. Stars

It was an early April evening and the sun was beginning to set in the distance. “You’ve been really quiet this evening.” Ingrid observed, detaching lance heads from their shafts for cleaning with Sylvain.

“Yeah…I…guess…” he answered, continued with his task. They worked in silence for a moment as Ingrid continued to glance in his direction, seeing how his eyes were focused on the lance heads.

“Is…something on your mind?” she asked, throwing a shaft into the nearby pile she had created. Sylvain shrugged and shook his head.

“Nah…not really.” He answered abruptly. And then, Ingrid remembered something that may have elicited this response. Ingrid’s expression change to concern.

“Is this about me lecturing you because you barely studied for your certification exam because I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have been so harsh.” Sylvain shook his head again.

“No, it’s…it’s not that. You _should_ have been harsh on me because I completely failed it…27% out of 100%. I slacked off and _literally_ fucked around instead of studying. So…thank you…for…caring enough to lecture me about it.” Sylvain said, not looking up from his task. Their conversation had run dry and was replaced with the alternating clanks of shafts and lance heads. Ingrid took it upon herself to start a new pile for any heads with stripped threads that required blacksmith attention. Ingrid continually glanced at Slyvain. She tried to say something, _anything_ but the words weren’t there.

Once they had completed the sorting, Sylvain wiped his hands of the grease and grime from the lance heads, throwing the dampened towel to Ingrid. “I’ll see you around.” He said before taking off. Ingrid watched him walk away, concerned for this radical change in his demeanor. She absently dried her hands, not taking her eyes off Sylvain. She huffed, unsatisfied with how distant he was acting. And so, she decided she wasn’t having it and took off after him.

“SYLVAIN!” She called, seeing as he was already almost out of sight. She hustled after him toward the fishing pond. “SYLVAIN! STOP!” She called again, finally beginning to catch up. “Stop! What the hell? What’s wrong with you today?” she asked, trying to catch her breath after running after him the last few yards.

“It’s not a big deal!” he insisted.

“It must be. You’re acting completely different. I just…” Sylvain interrupted Ingrid.

“Well, maybe it’s none of your business!” He snapped, instantly regretting it.

“Fine. Whatever. Just…whatever…” she said, turning around and starting to walk away. Now it was Sylvain watching _her_ walk away. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

“I said _YOUR_ name when I was in bed with another girl!” he said, throwing his hands out. Ingrid stopped in her tracks. She stood there, motionless. She hadn't turned around nor had she taken a step. “Oh, so what? You’re not even going to turn around? You badger me to tell you why I’m so…” Sylvain stopped talking when Ingrid spun around and walked back over to him.

“You said _my_ name? In bed...with another girl...you _said...my_ name?” She asked. Sylvain nodded, watching the sun become weaker behind the monastery walls. The fish in the pond popped and snapped at stray bugs on the surface.

“Yeah…you can imagine how much has been on my mind the last few days.” He said not making eye contact with Ingrid. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you earlier. I would… _never_ …snap at you. It’s just that I haven’t stopped thinking about you.” Sylvain said, picking up the leftover pellets on the fishmongers stand and walking out toward the end of the dock. He motioned Ingrid to join him. _Her_ mind was in overdrive at all this information. She situated herself beside Sylvain as he pitched a handful of food toward the center of the pond. The fish snapped and gobbled it up in a frenzy. "And now, when I'm around you...I don't know what to say to you." he added, still watching the active fish collide with the water's surface. Ingrid nervously diverted her eyes in any direction that wasn't Sylvain's. She searched for the words but all that same out was, 

“I realize I haven’t said anything in what feels like five minutes.” Ingrid said.

“It’s fine. I don’t expect you to.” He said, watching the fish thrash. “I didn’t mean to make things weird between us. But it's weird. It's weird, right? I said your name.”

“Stop... _nothing_ could ever be weird between you and me. We are _way_ past weird. I do think we...have some things to talk about.” Ingrid said, causing Sylvain to relax.

“See? Stuff like that. Why do you make it so easy? Look, Ingrid, I...I don’t want to fuck you. I've thought about this and for the first time, I want...more than that.” Sylvain confessed, tracing the worn, uneven treads in the wood of the dock with his fingers. 

“So, you’re saying, hypothetically, if you and I became more than friends...”

“Ooooh shit...just hearing you _say_ that makes my stomach flip.” Sylvain exhaled nervously. “Go on...”

“You’re saying you’d be able to resist all this?” Ingrid said with her most reassuring smile and her best self-deprecating humor as she pointed to herself. Sylvain laughed, feeling at ease again. 

“Hey, I never said I was a saint. But that’s also something we need to discuss. You, um...you don’t know how many women I’ve been with and... it’s _not_ a small number, Ingrid.” He said seriously. 

“We’ve all got skeletons. There are things you don’t know about me.” She said, staring up at the emerging moon. The first starts of nightfall were peeking out from behind the clouds. She shifted her focus to the dock. “Give me your hand.” She said, opening her palm. Sylvain slid his hand over her open palm and Ingrid interlaced her fingers with his. She gazed at his hand in hers wondering if it would be a good fit.

* * *

“Throw it again.” Felix called as he stood along the wall of the grassy area behind the training grounds. Dew was beginning to settle on the grass which caused the commotion of the magic spells to become dampened. “Plant your feet on the switch.”

Dorothea scuffed her feet against the grass before concentrating her attention to the blackened target at the opposite length of the grass. Once she had the spell live, she found herself over-concentrating on her footwork and she cast the spell weakly. “Aawww, that was lame.”

“Don’t think about it. Just let your feet switch on their own.” Felix instructed her.

“I did it in practice the other day. It was a critical, too.” She said, preparing another spell.

“If you cast it once you can do it again.” Felix said.

“I don’t think I can get the power in it that you do.” Dorothea said.

“Yes, you can, just keep your body going forward. Get your hands out of the way quickly. You’ll get it.” Felix coached her. “Look, Dee. Make a wide arc with your arms.” He said, showing her an example. It was endearing. Felix was the _only_ one at the monastery who called her Dee. Dorothea didn’t mind. It tickled her to know that she meant enough to Felix for him to bestow her with a pet name.

“Alright, here we go.” Dorothea exhaled and focused on the target again. As darkness fell, her visibility for accuracy was fading. She tried to take her time and digest Felix’s example. With the spell alive, she let her body work for her instead of against her, throwing a critical toward the target. “YES!” she exclaimed as Felix clapped.

“See!? There it is!” he encouraged her. Nothing could make him smile like successful training. Dorothea laughed.

“Think I can do it again?” She asked, rubbing her hands together to loosen the soot from the spell.

“Of course! Make this one a bigger hit.” Felix said, walking along the wall toward the target.

“Bigger?” she questioned.

“Yeah. Why not? Knock the target over.” Felix said, having faith that she could do it. Though she doubted her ability to throw a stronger attack, Dorothea went through her ritual once more and prepared to throw another critical thoron attack. She didn’t knock the target over, but it was an impressive critical hit.

“Nice and straight.” Felix said, walking back toward her. “It looked good.” As Dorothea continued to work on her attacks, it seemed they had attracted an audience. Lysithea was passing through on her way to her dorm but stopped just out of plain sight when she saw Dorothea and Felix using the thoron spells. She stood and watched as Dorothea throw more attacks.

“What the…” she mumbled to herself, observing another thoron attack. She watched as Felix traded Dorothea places and launched his own critical attack. It was impressive to say the least and elicited a gasp from Lysithea. She intently watched Felix take Dorothea’s arms and instruct her to mimic his movements. She scowled and leaned in, scolding herself for not being close enough to hear. Lysithea waited as Dorothea changed places with Felix and prepared herself. She cast her strongest, most intense critical hit yet. Her fists in the air showed her obvious satisfaction. Lysithea’s mouth hung agape because Dorothea’s technique was _Felix’s_ technique. She stared in disgust of the massive attack. Lysithea gasped again as she saw Felix put his hands on either side of Dorothea’s head, quite pleased. However, what _really_ shook Lysithea up was the kiss she witnessed. It wasn’t a kiss made for public but one that was perfect for a night under the stars. “I _knew_ she couldn’t throw a critical hit…” Lysithea said out loud, clenching her fists. Seeing Felix’s hand on the back of Dorothea’s neck, pulling her up against him was all Lysithea needed to see before storming off in an angry huff.

* * *

The wyverns were content. Some of them cooed peacefully while they ate or groomed. Others slept quietly in their stalls, absent to the night around them. The warm glow of a lantern cast soft, pale yellow steaks across the back room. They blended with shadows, and the faint ember of Petra’s cigarette. “You are nervous.” She stated exhaling a plume of smoke. Edelgard smiled and pushed her hair behind her ears.

“Yeah…” she said, giving Petra a tentative smile as she attempted to make herself comfortable on the mattress that laid against the worn floorboards. She fidgeted with the covers behind her. “Can I…can I have one?” she asked, referring to Petra’s cigarette.

“Of course.” she said offering Edelgard the pack. “You’ve hardly smoked before.”

“Yeah. Just a handful of times.” She said, balancing the cigarette between her lips as Petra leaned forward to light it. Deep, purple hair framed her face and she inhaled Edelgard’s jasmine-coated scent. Petra’s eyes were intoxicating and Edelgard couldn’t avoid her sultry stare.

“And Hubert? Where is he tonight?” Petra asked, watching Edelgard’s hesitant movements. She took a deep inhale from her cigarette, her inexperience choking her. She regained her breath and placed a hand on her chest.

“He went to the brawling tournament.” She answered.

“So, we…won’t be hearing from him anytime soon?” Edelgard did her best to keep eyecontact with Petra.

“No. It’s just you and me.” She said, raising her eyebrows.

Petra smiled taking another drag on her cigarette, before ashing it in the nearby tray. She reached out and pulled her fingers through Edelgard’s pale hair. “You’ve never done this before.”

“No. I…have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve only been with Hubert. I’m sorry if I’m not any good.” Edelgard _never_ lacked confidence in anything…except this. Petra reached out and plucked Edelgard’s cigarette from her mouth, pressing her lips into Edelgard’s. It caught her off guard, but Edelgard didn’t fight it. That level of sudden impulse was exactly what she needed. She did her best to let her nicotine-soaked lips relax into Petra’s. Immediately, she realized that Petra had experience on her side. She also realized that Petra’s kiss put Hubert’s to shame. But, was it really that Hubert was that unskilled or because she wanted Petra's kiss that much more? Edelgard could feel her body ignite as Petra’s tongue lapped at her own.

Edelgard moaned softly into Petra’s lips and broke their kiss long enough to jam her lit cigarette into the floor beneath them. She quickly fixed her eyes on Petra again, lunging forward and putting her arms around Petra, pulling her down beside her. Edelgard’s mind raced and as she kissed Petra without inhibition. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t fight her instincts. Edelgard began to recall all the fantasies that crossed her mind about this very moment.

As her tongue chased Edelgard’s, Petra slid her hand down Edelgard’s body. She gasped amidst their kiss as she felt Petra’s hand between her legs. Petra slid her hand back to Edelgard’s stomach, pushing her over to her back and into the mattress. “Relax…” she said softly, rubbing her hands over Edelgard’s breasts, giving them a light squeeze before allowing her fingers to creep toward the edge soft, cotton pants. Petra teased the edge with her finger before focusing her attention toward her own clothes, quickly shedding down to her bra.

“Join me, won’t you?” Petra asked, encouraging Edelgard to get out of her bulky spring jacket. Petra could see the sweet lantern glow in Edelgard’s eyes. It was only now that she say how hungry Edelgard was for her. She wondered how _long_ Edelgard had wanted this. Right now, was not the time for those answers. She smirked slightly and grabbed at the waist of Edelgard’s pants, pulling them off in one motion.

“Is that better?” Edelgard asked, revealing her naked stomach to Petra as she drank in the sight of the pale haired beauty on the mattress.

“Perfect.” She answered, leaning over and gently pushing Edelgard’s thighs apart. What she did next caused Edelgard to let out a quite audible gasp. She was unprepared for the feeling of Petra’s tongue against her clit that she had exposed, pulling silken panties down Edelgard’s thighs. Edelgard squeezed the comforter etween her fists. Petra adored hearing Edelgard’s tender moans. Her sweet submission was uncharacteristic of her House leader, but also an incredible turn-on. Edelgard arched her back which only encouraged Petra to lap and suck on her harder. She reached her hands up toward Edegard’s rib cage, fingers gliding over soft skin. Edelgard’s moans were more frequent, more earnest. All she could think about was how _good_ Petra was and how she had never before felt _anything_ like this.

“I’m gonna’ come…I’m gonna’ come!” Edelgard barely got out before growling at Petra through clenched teeth. She had gotten so worked up that it caused the wyverns to stir. Edelgard swore that she saw stars as her body sunk into the mattress beneath her.

* * *

Byleth was glowing. It was Dimitri’s first good day in two months. He felt like getting out of bed. He even helped Byleth with business as it related to the Blue Lions. He wasn’t his old self by any stretch, but it was certainly refreshing to see him have a desire to be up and out instead of down and confined to his room. Byleth couldn’t stop smiling. To add to her excitement, Dimitri even felt like going to the brawling tournament being held at the training grounds.

The tournament hadn’t yet begun as Byleth slid into the bleachers beside Dimitri. “You picked good seats. We won’t miss anything sitting here.” She said, handing Dimitri a bottle of water and a paper bag full of leftover biscuits the kitchen staff had provided.

“Thank you. Have you seen the draw?” Dimitri asked opening the bag.

“I haven’t but I’d bet it’s a big draw considering how many people are here.” Byleth said, looking around the quickly filling bleachers. She caught sight of Hubert across the room sitting with Ferdinand. Byleth stood, hoping to catch Ferdinand’s attention to which she did. She gave him a wave before taking her seat again. “I’m trying to recruit him.” She said. Dimitri had been so removed that he didn’t realize Byleth had been considering recruitment.

“Yeah?” he asked. “Who did you have in mind?”

“I’ve been talking to Lysithea, Dorothea, Ferdinand, Lorenz, Ignatz and Linhardt.” Byleth said.

“Really? And of those, who do you most favor?” Byleth shrugged.

“I don’t know yet. I’ll decide by the end of the week.” She said.

“Well, I trust your decision.” Dimitri said, giving her a warm smile. Byleth’s heart fluttered. That was the first smile she had seen from him in…she couldn’t remember when. The evening announcements hushed all the commotion from the spectators. Byleth caught sight of Claude making his rounds. It was funny to watch him work the crowd because it seemed everybody knew him or at least talked to him for one reason or another. It made sense because _everybody_ liked Claude. Once the announcer was finished with the opening remarks, Byleth stood up again.

“Claude!” she called, grabbing his attention and motioning him toward she and Dimitri. Claude threw his hand in the air and began to wade through the crowd in Byleth’s direction.

“Teach!” he called, stepping up the bleachers and over others to settle in beside Byleth. “Dimitri. Good to see you, man.” He said, giving Dimitri his signature slap and grab handshake.

“Hi!l” she beamed, out-stretching her arms. He was enchanted by her radiance.

“How’s he doing?” Claude asked softly. Byleth shook her head in approval.

“He’s had a great day.” She whispered, patting the bleacher beside her.

“Don’t mind if I do!” Claude said having a seat and sandwiching her between he and Dimitri. “Gotta’ support my boy tonight. You know Raphael is the favorite to win, right? I promised him a smoked ham if he wins.” Byleth laughed.

“He’ll win it just to get the ham.”

“That he will. I can make that man do anything for food.” Claude said. The tournament was exciting, and the crowd was rowdy partly because of all the beer being served in the adjacent courtyard and partly because the competition was tightly matched. The knockout from one of the participates got the crowd on their feet including Claude and Byleth. Once seated again, Claude rubbed his hand over Byleth’s knee, leaning in her direction to see if Raphael had come out of the warmup room yet.

“Does Raphael have a bye?” Byleth asked.

“Yeah, until the semi-finals. You wanna’ walk out to the courtyard with me? I need a beer to calm my nerves when Raphael goes pounding on whatever poor soul faces him” Claude said.

“Sure, I’ll go with you.” she answered.

“Dimitri, you want a beer?” Claude asked, leaning over Byleth again.

“No but thank you.” Dimitri answered.

“He can’t drink _anything_ with all the medication.” Byleth whispered as she made her way through the row of spectators, careful not to trip over anyone. Once on the floor, Byleth followed Claude through the stray spectators and out to the courtyard.

“Whew! A little cooler out here.” Claude said. The courtyard was alive tonight. “And would you look at that line?”

“It’ll move quickly.” Byleth said. “Look at the sky tonight. I’ve not seen so many stars.” Claude looked up into the clear, nighttime sky.

“It’s beautiful, teach. First clear sky of spring. There’s only one thing I could stare at longer than a sky like that.” Claude said.

“Yeah?” Byleth questioned.

“You….in that spring uniform…with that perfect smile on your face.” Claude said honestly. It was true that she was hard to miss the way her body was poured into the spring uniform. It hugged her every curve. Byleth laughed and rubbed her hands on either side of her body.

“Thank you.” she said, blushing.

“Stop! You’re killing me!” Claude’s perfect smile was enough to steal the brilliance from all the stars above. As they stood toward the back of the line, Claude looked at her with a bit of disappointment in his face. "I like seeing you this happy." 

"I like _being_ this happy. I only hope it continues, you know? I hope Dimitri has better days." Byleth said. 

"Teach, I hope that too. I _really_ do. But um, at what cost? I don't want to see this beautiful smile fade and Dimitri kills this smile. I mean that in the nicest way possible." Claude said seriously. Byleth nodded. 

"I understand what you're saying. But you know, I...I love 'im. I just...we need to get through this." Byleth said. 

"I know, I know. It's just...he's not taking care of you." Claude said. "You know I like Dimitri but I like you more." Byleth tilted her head, perplexed by Claude's statements. "Teach..." he started, lowering his voice and moving his face closer to Byleth's ear. "...I shouldn't be telling you this. You're in a relationship with him. However...if you grow...tired of...being neglected...you come see me because I will treat you like the woman you are. With me, You won't want for anything." he said. Byleth felt her mouth go dry. How was she supposed to respond to such comments coming form _Claude_ of all people. "I mean you no disrespect but I would do some _very_ dirty things with you. I'm sorry...don't hate me too much." Claude patted Byleth's shoulder. She cleared her throat, suddenly wanting a beer. 

"No, not...no! I...I don't hate you at all. It's just I'm a little...I... " she stumbled over her words. Claude flashed his smiled at her again. 

"Ssshhhh....it's okay, Teach. You know where to find me."


	5. I Will Never Let You Down

Ingrid and Sylvain had just arrived at the door of the infirmary. Knowing Mercedes would be in, Sylvain took the liberty to make the appointment, indicating Ingrid would be joining. He seemed to know the drill: sign-in on the clipboard and ring the bell. Mercedes was seldom readily available, and the bell let her know her next appointment had arrived. Ingrid took a seat beside Sylvain near the door. They didn’t have to wait long because Mercedes appeared from the attached room, her face lighting up when she saw two of her favorite people. 

“Ingrid! Sylvain! Hi! Oh, it’s so good to see the two of you!” She chirped. “Follow me!” She said, motioning them her direction. Mercedes had a round table in what could only be described as a conference room. There wasn’t much else in the tiny room aside from storage. “Here! Here! Have a seat! You want some tea!? I just brewed some.” Mercedes offered. 

“No thanks, Mercie but that’s sweet of you.” Ingrid said.

“I’m good.” Sylvian said suddenly feeling a wave of nerves overcome him. 

“What can I do for you?” Mercedes asked. Sylvain took a nervous breath. 

“I... need to grant Ingrid access to look at all my medical records today.” Sylvain said.

“Okay! I’ll get the consent form.” She bubbled.

“Yeah, me too...I need to do the same.” Ingrid said. Mercedes turned around to a stack of papers behind her. Ingrid watched as Mercedes completed the top parts of the form. 

“Sign here, put today’s date and initial here and here.” Mercedes pointed. “While you do that, I’m going to retrieve your files. You can review them here.”

As Mercedes left to retrieve the files, Ingrid could tell Sylvain was nervous. She reached out and put a hand on his. “It’s going to be alright.” She said.

“You may want to wait and say that _after_ you see this file.” He cautioned her.

“Here we go!” Mercedes said, laying Ingrid’s file before her and Sylvain’s before him. Ingrid’s file had, maybe, 20 pages in it whereas it appeared as if Sylvain’s file had 220 pages. “Would you prefer I stay here to answer any questions?”

“That’s okay, Mercedes. We’ll tell you if we need anything, thank you.” Sylvain said. Mercedes nodded and left, closing the door behind her. “Alright…” Sylvain began, after Mercedes had left. “…my file is a little bigger than yours. Ingrid…there’s more in here than just documentation of treated battle wounds, medications administered, sicknesses, injuries tended to, yearly exams…you know, those things.” Ingrid shook her head.

“Okay? Like…what? What else is in there?” she questioned. Sylvain nervously exhaled heavily and looked down at the table. He mustered the courage to look Ingrid in the eye.

“I’ve had 30 sexual partners in the last three years. I um…I’ve been tested…after pretty much every partner. The most recent test was a week or so ago after the incident saying your name. I’ve never had anything. All the tests are clean. You can ask me _anything_ you want. I’ve got nothing to hide. And if you’re looking at this and thinking to yourself that this is just too much for you; that you don’t want to get involved with me on account of all this, I completely understand. We’ll go back to the way things were between us before we decided to be more than friends.” Sylvain spun his file around opened it. “Here. Have a look.”

Ingrid stared at Sylvain’s open file before her. She wasn’t thinking about his sexual past and she wasn’t thinking about all the tests. Here Sylvain was before her, being _completely_ transparent about something that so many others would have gone out of the way to hide. He had even been _responsible_ enough to be tested. All Ingrid could think about was what she had never told him, and it wasn’t in her medical records. Ingrid reached out and closed his file, shoving it back in his direction.

“Sylvain…” she started. “…I don’t need to see any of the tests. I believe you.” Ingrid could feel a sickness in her stomach. “…you and I…have never had any secrets between us. But, I need to come clean with a secret I’ve kept from you so that all the cards are on the table.” she took a deep breath. “When I turned eighteen, my father got _very_ aggressive with his attempts to marry me off. So, I did the one thing that I knew would make me much less desirable as a wife. I um…I slept with four different men, Sylvain. It was over a very short period of time and it was just the four. I just…” Ingrid could feel her emotions rushing to the surface. “I wanted _so_ much for my father to leave me alone and it backfired. I thought it would piss him off so much that I had…fucked whatever I could find! But he kept shopping for husbands and said if we just kept quiet about it…no one would ever know.” Ingrid sighed, fighting the tears. She didn’t make eye contact. “Non of that information is in my medical records. I’ve never been tested but I’ll do it today. I’ll do it _right now_.”

Sylvain had wasted so much time fucking any willing girl with no consequence and Ingrid had risked _everything_ to dodge marriage proposals and in her bold move, she _still_ got hurt in the end. It wasn’t fair.

“Ingrid…” Sylvain began taking her hands in his. “…you don’t have to prove _anything_ to me.”

“No.” Ingrid said adamantly. If _we_ are doing this for real…then I’m getting this test.” Ingrid paused. “It can only be me, Sylvain. It’s not me plus whoever grabs your attention in the moment. When I make a commitment, I stick to it. I expect no less from you. I swear, if you hurt me…”

“I would _never_ hurt you. _Ever_. Promise me that the minute you or I think this isn’t working, we end it and go back to being just friends.” Sylvain said seriously. Ingrid agreed.

“Deal.” She said.

“Here.” Sylvain said, pushing his file in front of her again. “Swear on syphilis.” Ingrid laughed and put her head down.

“Oh, for the love of…I promise!” she said still laughing. “You know, it’s ironic. I fuck four guys and it has no effect on my father. You were the _one_ man who shut him up. Life’s weird sometimes.” Ingrid laughed and called for Mercedes. It was the first time an STD test actually propelled a relationship forward.

* * *

“The truth is, I want you Ferdinand. I know you’ve had some time to think about it and I hope you’ll join us. You would be an asset in this House and you’d be a good fit. This House is built on heavy combat, after all. _And_ there is more nobility in this House than any of the others.” Byleth coaxed him, sitting back in her desk. Ferdinand nodded. Shamir exchanged glances with Catherine who was taking notes on who Ferdinand’s trainer should be, his strengths and weaknesses and what he would be bringing into the House. “I’ve consulted Edelgard about your dedication, your training schedule, your class attendance. It’s all spotless which is why I place a high degree of value on recruiting you.” Byleth finished.

“I’ve thought about it a lot, Professor. I also think this House would be a good fit. I’d love to join, and I accept your recruitment invitation.” Ferdinand said with his warm, sincere smile. Byleth was delighted.

“Great! Thank you, Ferdinand. You won’t regret this!” she said, extending her hand to him. Ferdinand gave her a firm handshake. “Catherine and Shamir are helping to work out the details and to transfer all of your progress materials from your current House. “We’re doing a group drill in the morning at 8:00 in the field just outside of town. I’ll see you then.” Byleth said before Ferdinand left the room.

“That’s all this House needs…another pretty boy.” Catherine shook her head and jotted some more notes. Shamir laughed.

“You needed that strawberry blonde to complete your collection.” She said, taking Ferdinand’s papers and handing them over to Catherine. She traded out files and gave Byleth the paperwork on Lysithea who was waiting to be called in. Shamir poked her head out the door and motioned for her.

“Hey, come in. She’s ready for you.” Shamir said, taking her seat behind Byleth once more.

“Hello, Professor!” Lysithea exclaimed, her smile adding to her excited state. Byleth gave her a nod.

“Lysithea. Always good to see you. Have a seat.” What are your thoughts on joining the Blue Lions House?” Byleth asked.

Lysithea was beyond bubbly. “I’d love to join! I would be honored to be a part of this House and if you are extending a recruitment invitation then I am grateful!”

“Good, good I’m glad you’ve thought about it. As you are probably aware, I have spoken to Claude about your dedication, your training schedule, and your class attendance. You are dedicated to your training and to your class attendance, but you seem to get into a lot of conflict within your house. Can you tell me more about that?”

“I…I…wouldn’t call it…conflict.” Lysithea laughed nervously. “I’m competitive! I want to be the best and I work hard with my Housemates to be the best.” She said. Byleth shook her head.

“And at what cost? You do have very powerful spells in your repertoire, but that’s all you have. I appreciate your skills and your willingness to work but I can’t have anyone with an attitude in the House. I decided to go in a different direction….Lysithea.” Byleth revealed. Lysithea looked as if she had just been gutted.

“Wh…what? _What_!? A different direction? I don’t…I don’t follow. You were talking to _me_. You wanted to recruit _me_!” She said, beginning to feel flustered.

“That’s correct and… _this_ is precisely what I’m talking about.” Byleth said, matter-of-factly. “This is a combat House and you can’t handle a sword, a lance, a bow…I thought perhaps you would begin to train one of those arts.” Byleth said. Lysithea sat there staring at her, mortified. She didn’t say anything, creating a tense and uncomfortable silence. Byleth cleared her throat. “Anyway, um…Dorothea Arnault was the decision. Thank you, Lysithea for…” Byleth was cut off.

“You chose _Dorothea!?_ My moves are _better_ than hers! _I’m_ better than her! My attacks are stronger! She can’t throw _half_ the magic I can!” Lysithea argued, slightly raising from her seat.

“She can handle a sword, she can heal, she's talented off the battlefield and she can throw a very powerful Thoron attack.” Catherine said.

“THAT’S NOT EVEN HER MOVE!” she nearly yelled, standing up and throwing her hands out.

“Excuse me?” Byleth calmly questioned.

“She…. she doesn’t…she can’t throw a Thoron attack! It’s not hers! Her footwork isn’t even hers! IT’S FELIX’S!” Lysithea insisted.

“When has _anyone_ ever questioned where someone learned a technique? Why does that matter?” Shamir asked.

“Because it isn’t fair! It isn’t fair because…they…I saw him _kiss_ her during a training session!! If I had _that_ kind of relationship, I’d know his footwork too! And I would do it better!!” Lysithea raged. “If he’s _with_ her of course she’s going to learn his techniques! That’s an unfair advantage!”

“Lysithea, seriously. Your behavior right now is more of a reason….” Catherine couldn’t finish her sentence.

“My Goddess…this is bullshit! She…there’s only _one_ way she got into this house…” Lysithea said before angrily storming out of the room. She was on a war path and she was going to settle this score. “Hey!” she called to Hubert who was standing at the end of the hallway. “Hubert! Where’s Dorothea?” she asked loudly.

“Blue Lions classroom. She was recruited earlier today. It’s hard to see her leave the Black Eagles but I hope she…” Lysithea stopped him mid-sentence.

“Thanks.” She barely got the words out at she hustled down the hallway.

“Are you okay?” He called behind her.

“I’m fine.” Lysithea said, disappearing down the stairs to the first floor. She quickly made her way through the corridors. The fury in her eyes didn’t go unnoticed by those around her. Once in the courtyard and away from all the stirring in the reception hall, she spotted her target. “DOROTHEA!” she shouted across the courtyard. Dorothea had only barely looked up when a hand came wailing at her face. “YOU FUCKING WHORE! You’re a _fucking_ whore, you know that!? You don’t have what it takes, yet YOU get recruited!! You _fucked_ your way into the Blue Lions House! ADMIT IT! I know you did!” Lysithea seethed.

Dorothea’s hand trembled as she held it against her nose in a feeble attempt to catch all the blood that almost instantly began to gush. Lysithea had clocked her hard. “I _cannot_ believe you…we train together, Lysithe…”

“ADMIT IT!” she interrupted. “Admit to me that I’m the better candidate and _you_ are a slut who fucked your way…” Lysithea was interrupted by two hands on her shoulders.

“Turn around. Walk away. Don’t talk. If you walk away right now, I won’t file an assault charge with your House leader. If you choose to disobey _anything_ I said, I’ll make certain you are stripped of every certification you have. And if you think I’m bluffing, just know that I have the power to make your life _very_ miserable. I _highly_ suggest you take your pathetic, uninformed ass back to your House. You _will_ pay for this.” The voice behind Lysithea said, tightening the grip on her shoulders.

“Ow…” Lysithea said more fearfully than anything, feeling the fingers dig into her shoulders. She turned around to face who had ahold of her only to see Ingrid’s unwavering eyes shoot daggers through her own.

“And give me that stupid scarf you’re wearing.” Ingrid demanded. Lysithea exhaled nervously, fumbling to remove her scarf before slipping away from the scene.

“Shit…are you okay?” Ingrid asked, kneeling before Dorothea and handing her the scarf.

“Where did you come from!? I didn’t even see you walk up behind her!” Dorothea exclaimed. 

“That’s not important right now. You need a healer before your boyfriend sees this.” Ingrid said, putting an arm around Dorothea and examining her swollen nose.

“You know about me and Felix?” Dorothea questioned, still dabbing at the blood.

“Don’t be pissed...I’ve known about you two for a couple months. Sylvain told me. But I didn’t know you were recruited until she screamed it. Welcome to the House.” Ingrid explained, motioning to Linhardt.

“Thanks. What a way to join. And, it’s fine. I don’t care Sylvain told you. I know he and Felix are very close. Wait...you know I didn’t fuck my way into your house, right?” Dorothea asked, genuinely worried. 

“Please! Lysithea’s just jealous that she didn’t have what it takes to get in. I know you earned it. But let me tell you, I have fifty questions about how Felix got into _you_. So, you and I are going to have lunch sometime when you’re a little less bloody to talk about that.” Ingrid said as Linhardt approached. Dorothea laughed. It was a perfect out to break the dramatic scene that had just unfolded.

“Okay, just tell me when.” She said. 

“Dorothea!” Linhardt exclaimed as he put his hands on her cheeks to take a look. “What did I miss?” he asked.

“That bitch, Lysithea was a little upset she didn’t get recruited.” Dorothea said.

“Damn. I can heal it, but I can’t reduce the swelling.” He said proceeding to heal the bloody mess. “There we go. Let me look. You need to ice that and don’t be surprised if you bruise a little. I hate to say this, but she got you hard.” Linhardt examined her nose which was tender to the touch. 

“Thank you, Linhardt.” Dorothea said as she examined the blood-saturated scarf. 

“Go see Mercedes at the infirmary if that swelling doesn’t dissipate in the next couple days.” He warned before heading the opposite direction to be on with his day. 

“Ugh. Okay. Glad that’s over. Thank you…for what you did there." Dorothea said, acknowledging Ingrid. 

“That’s the thing about this House. We don’t let each other down.” Ingrid assured her. Dorothea sighed.

“That’s good to know. Oooh, I am…spent after that. Have you ever taken a test that…you’ve just…bee so relieved when you knew you passed? That’s the feeling I have right now.” Dorothea said. Ingrid smiled. 

“Oh yeah...I know that feeling _well_.”

* * *

It had been an exhausting day. Byleth laid one her bed staring at the ceiling. Dimitri had a panic attack amidst the House recruitment sessions. She had to stop her recruitment interview with Lorenz to deal with him, then return, causing her to run late. She was pleased, however. Dorothea, Ferdinand and wildcard addition of Lorenz would strengthen the House. Dimitri hadn’t a clue what Byleth had done. It almost irritated her. She had put so much effort into recruitment while Dimitri did nothing except sink lower into his abyss. Catherine and Shamir had been invaluable in the efforts. Byleth recognized that without their support and knowledge, it may have not been a successful day. Even Claude had congratulated Byleth on having dipped her hands deeply into the Black Eagles House.

There were so many things to balance in her mind. She was so tired…but what exactly was making Byleth so exhausted. Was _she_ herself depressed? Was running the House wearing her thin? Or…was it something deeper than that? Byleth was beginning to question just _how_ much she still loved Dimitri. She loved him…at least…she _thought_ that’s what it was. Since he had been afflicted, she told herself that she loved that man and a good girlfriend did whatever it took to be there for him. But….it was starting to tear her apart. Her entire day revolved around Dimitri. Even today…the _one_ day she needed to devote to the House was turned around on Dimittri. She scolded herself for feeling angry about it. What if she had just become comfortable with Dimitri? She wondered if what they used to have was gone. What if Byleth’s relationship had become a routine and not evolving partnership. She knew Dimitri loved her. Well, he did at one point. She wasn’t sure because she hadn’t heard him say so for months. What if Dimitri _didn’t_ love her the way she thought she loved him? What if his condition destroyed him…her… _them?_

As she laid there, a thousand questions passed through her whirring mind. Should she check on Dimitri? Did Mercedes give him his 6:00 medicine since she was unavailable? Should she attempt to tell Dimitri about the new House Roster? Should she show him her scoring criteria that she, Catherine and Shamir had created? Should she go to him and tell him just how much she _might_ still love him? If she went down on Claude would he come on her face so she could lick him up?............okay, her last thought _might_ have snuck in. 

Byleth was also thinking about Claude's offer. How nasty was he willing to get with her? Claude was _so gorgeous_. She wanted to suck his cock dry. Byleth wanted his body all over hers. She wanted to feel his latte stained skin slide against hers. She _needed_ him to throw her down into the mattress and take her roughly from behind. Oh, how she wanted to get on all fours while Claude pounded her. Byleth gasped, sweat forming along her hairline. She breathed heavily realizing her mind had gotten away from her when she felt the wetness between her legs. Byleth visualized Claude’s body, covered in a smooth, wet sheen fresh out of the sauna as she pushed her hand down her stomach. She exhaled contentedly as she thought about Claude’s tongue between her legs where her finger played. She closed her eyes and arched her back. Byleth imagined herself pushing her hips into Claude. She wanted him to fuck her _hard_ , to do whatever it was he wanted to her. She moaned lightly at the thought of him coming inside her. She gritted her teeth and moaned louder at the thought of Claude’s tongue in her mouth, his hands on her breasts, his breath in her face, his sweat against her neck…” _CLAUDE!”_ Byleth’s body contracted against her as she breathily panted his name out loud. She hadn’t intended on climaxing that quickly, but Claude had a power over her even when he wasn’t with her. Byleth’s soaked finger was all the evidence she needed.


	6. Who Do You Love, Now?

The rain hadn’t let up. It blew against the window, pelting the glass. Despite the early evening, the dark sky caused the sun to disappear nada turn into nightfall prematurely. “What?” Sylvain asked, with a slight laugh as the candlelight danced against him. His hair framed his face, still damp from the shower. Ingrid had possibly the most serious look on her face that Sylvain had ever seen.

“You.” she said. Sylvain laughed.

“What about me?” he asked.

“When did you get…. _so_ sexy?” she asked. Sylvain smiled.

“I could ask the same of you.” he said. Ingrid drank in the sight of the candle’s gentle flame against Sylvain’s bare chest. She had seen him naked from the waist up before fifty times before and thought nothing of it. But _now_ …as Sylvain sat across from her in the candlelight with nothing but his navy-blue House loungewear pants, she _literally_ saw him in a different light. They were locked in a staring contest, both of them terrified of the next move. Ingrid wanted so desperately to kiss him. However, she knew that if she did, the friendzone would be officially gone and they had both been clinging to what was left of that zone for the entire month. In fact, they had already had many close calls in the last week or so but neither of them could make the move. Ingrid loved that fact that Sylvain was almost compulsively clean. There was _nothing_ in his room out of place and everything was always washed. He always smelled like the soap from the laundry room. The lightning struck in the distance, briefly creating a flash through the window. The rain was hypnotic. Sylvain laughed, “You look _so_ tense right now.” It made Ingrid laugh because it was ridiculous… _and_ correct.

“I am…” she admitted.

“Why?” He asked, running a hand through his damp hair. “You’ve _never_ been tense around me. C’mere…” Sylvain said, motioning Ingrid toward him. Ingrid looked at his perfect outstretched arms and swallowed every inhibition she had, knowing there was no turning back. She leaned forward, pressing her lips into Sylvain’s quickly before barely pulling them away. She breathed nervously and watched the candle flame in his eyes.

“Oh shit…” she whispered. “…did I mess up?” Sylvain didn’t answer, snaking his arm around her back and forcing her lips into his again. This time, with affirmation. His lips were soft, and he smelled _so good_. Ingrid’s kiss may have begun tentative and restrained but it had quickly evolved into breathless passion. As Ingrid tightened her arms around bare shoulders, all her anxieties were replaced with a collision of heavy exhales and Sylvain’s tongue against hers. He traced his hands down her sides to her hips, motioning her tensed thighs apart to the point where Ingrid was straddling his lap. She moaned softly into his lips, relaxing the weight of her body into him. Ingrid gasped because she felt a _lot_ more than she bargained for. “ _Fuck_ …you’re so _hard…”_ she whispered before sinking her lips into Sylvain’s again. He motioned her hips into his to which Ingrid didn’t fight in the least. She adored the feeling of his tongue against hers and the way his laundered scent engulfed her.

Sylvain leaned back into the pillows behind him, pulling Ingrid down with him. She didn’t resist the urge to grind her hips into his. The fact that neither of them were wearing anything underneath those soft, spun-cotton pants made this all the more intense. All the nervousness had faded. It was replaced by raw desire. Sylvain’s kiss was insatiable, and Ingrid needed more. She moaned again at the feeling of his hands up her shirt. Ingrid broke their kiss long enough push herself backward and pull her shirt over her head, sending her bra along with it.

“ _Shit_ … _Ingrid…”_ Sylvain whispered, pushing his hands up her ribcage. Her body, as far as he was concerned was _perfect_. Her skin was so smooth, in the candlelight, she looked like a goddess...and those _breasts_... Ingrid reached for Sylvain’s hands and put them over her chest. “… _Ooooh Goddess…_ ” Sylvain fixed heavy eyes on Ingrid’s. “I want you to ride me.” He said softly as the thunder rolled again in the distance.

“Just hold my hips, yeah?” she asked.

“Don’t worry…” Sylvain said jamming his thumbs in the sides of his pants. Ingrid did the same, seeing as she had already made a mess in them. Her thighs were tense again, but for a very different reason. Ingrid put her hands over Sylvain’s, sliding down onto him. She thought they would _never_ get to this point and she certainly didn't think it would happened the way it did. She thought it would just be too weird…it wasn’t…it was _wonderful._ Ingrid huffed into her deep grind, listening to Sylvain beg and plead underneath her. Her breathy, uninhibited sighs collided with Sylvain’s. The more vocal Ingrid became the closer she got. It was not her intention to come within three minutes but at the rate things were going, that was _exactly_ what would happen. Sylvain made it too easy for her. Ingrid always thought that in order to have a _really_ intense climax…you had to work for it. She was so wrong and judging by the way Sylvain tapped his fingers on her hips, motioning her to his side, he didn’t have to work either. Ingrid had barely hit the mattress before she felt her abdomen sopping wet and heard her name escape from deep within Sylvain’s throat.

* * *

The storm hit a weak spot, turning to a constant, but soft rain. “This isn’t working.” Felix said, taking a long drink of whiskey before handing the bottle to Dorothea and leaning back against her knees.

“What’s not working?” she asked, taking a drink and trying her best not to choke considering she was almost flat in bed.

“ _This.”_ Felix said, motioning his finger around the room. “We have stuff everywhere in here. I can’t even see your desk anymore. I’m shocked we haven’t set something on fire tonight with all these candles.” Felix said, looking to the dozen or so swords leaning against the wall in the corner. His stuff was _everywhere_. Neither he nor Dorothea had a habit of leaving things out of place. The problem with Dorothea’s dorm was that it was so full of _stuff_ there wasn’t any room _left_ for anything to be in place. It was organized mess and that organization was starting to turn into downright mess.

“I know. You are aware that most of this is _yours_ stuff, right?” Dorothea asked, handing the bottle back.

“Yeah…I don’t understand where it all came from. I don’t know how…why you put up with this. If I were you, I would say, Felix, get your shit and go back upstairs.” Felix said, shaking his head and looking around.

“Well, I don’t particularly love the fact that we can hardly walk through here, but I don’t want you to go back upstairs so I just learned to work around all the stuff.” Dorothea explained. Felix gave her a soft smile.

“Hmm. So, you want me more than you want a clean dorm. That’s sweet, Dee.” Felix laughed a partially whiskey-induced laugh. “Do you remember when you wanted to punch me in the face?” He asked, handing the bottle back to her. She laughed just as stupidly.

“How could I forget? What do you think would have happened had you _not_ walked in on me in the showers that day?” she asked. Felix thought for a moment.

“Huh. I’ve never thought of that. I probably wouldn’t be using your knees as a chair back right now. That’s for sure.” Felix thought longer. “…and I’d be _really_ unhappy.”

In mid-December, Dorothea and Linhardt had been practicing spells when Linhardt accidentally burned her near the ribs with a wind spell. While in the shower, she was ordered to use a special soap and apply aloe immediately once out and still damp. That’s when all this happened. Dorothea was applying the aloe in front of the mirrors in the bath because she had assumed, she was alone. That’s when Felix appeared from the opposite set of showers and all the screaming ensued. She yelled, he yelled. He was wrapped in nothing but a towel…she was not…which only made her yell more. And admist all the screaming Dorothea only got angrier because there Felix was with that perfectly sculpted, lean body and all that wet, dark, hair around his face. It made her ache. 

After that incident, they didn’t speak. If their paths _did_ cross, Dorothea had only two words: Fuck you. And Felix had only three: No, fuck you. The next week, Dorothea was coming into the dining hall after a voice lesson with Manuela when Felix charmingly ordered her to come over to his table and sit down. He angrily told her that he couldn’t stop thinking about her. She, in turn told him just as angrily that she couldn’t stop thinking about him. And so, the _next_ shouting match between them took place just outside the dining hall on the patio. That was when Felix so romantically said. ‘You better fucking join me for tea’ and Dorothea so sweetly replied with ‘Fine! Just tell me what fucking time’. After that day, they never had a coarse word between them.

“I’d be unhappy, too.” Dorothea agreed.

“So, let’s go upstairs. My room is three times this size. My bed is at least double this one. I’m sorry. I should have pushed you harder to stay up there in the first place. It’s hypocritical of me…I’m always telling you not to worry so much about what other people think and yet, I came down here because I worried what others would think. For that, I’m really sorry.” Felix said.

“Nothing to be sorry for. You’re a noble. There’s different expectations on your floor.” Dorothea said, handing the bottle over. Felix laughed.

“There are _no_ expectations up there. Listen, It goes…. Sylvain...no concerns there, then Dimitri, ‘nough said, me, and then Claude who isn’t there a whole lot. Then, there’s Lorenz…” Felix rolled his eyes. “Next, Ferdinand and you know him way better than I do. After that there’s Caspar and I don’t talk to him, Hubert who has a messed-up relationship with Edelgard beside him. Lastly, there’s Hilda, I don’t know much about her, then Marianne…same thing…and finally, holding the entire operation together, is Ingrid on the other end.” Felix explained. Dorothea shook her head.

“Okay. Let’s do it. Let’s move to the elusive 2nd floor!” Dorothea said, laughing. Felix finished off the bottle and leaned over, crushing Dorothea’s stomach as he sat it on the floor.

“Alright…” he started, still leaning over the side of the bed before flinging himself back up and settling in beside Dorothea with one arm over her shoulders and his head against her neck. “…what are you doing after drill tomorrow? I’m training with Catherine for just an hour or so and then I have to give a seminar for a grade. I’ll be done by five. I’ll go upstairs and get my room at least ready to start moving things in. Goddess only knows what Sylvain has gone in there and taken.”

“Since I just changed Houses, all I have tomorrow is drill and then Ferdinand and I have a voice lesson. I can start packing while you’re busy.” Dorothea said. There was silence between them for a moment as the rain created white noise around them.

"Dee..." Felix started seriously. "...I need to tell you something but I _really_ need you to not look at me when I tell you this." 

"Okay? Sure." Dorothea said. Hell, this could be anything...Felix didn't say anything but Dorothea could feel his foot nervously shake against her ankle. She didn't say anything. Dorothea had learned months ago that the best way to get Felix to talk was to say nothing. She listened to the rain against the window and waited. 

"I love you." he said, closing his eyes tightly and mentally punching himself. His words were met with silence. 

"Can I turn around and look at you now?" she asked. 

"Yeah..." Felix answered her. Dorothea wiggled around underneath his arm, pushing long hair from her face. She fixed her gaze on vulnerable brown eyes. 

"I love you too."

* * *

Hubert sat with Edelgard in the library, long tapers burning on the table. He absently copied something from a manuscript. “I want to know the truth.” He said, glancing up at Edelgard.

“You need to know what truth?” She asked, playing with the edge of her shirt and avoiding eye contact with him. Hubert stopped writing, irritated. He put his pen aside and crossed his arms before him.

“You constantly tell me different stories about where you are and where you’re going. You tell me you’re working on things for the House? I’m not buying it anymore, Edie.” Hubert said. Edelgard didn’t look up. The thunder made the books in the library vibrate on their shelves. “Say _something_!” he demanded of her. Edelgard huffed.

“You think too much, you know that!? My routine changes _a little bit_ and you automatically assume I’m lying to you about things! Geez!” Edelgard shook her head in disgust.

“Who are you sleeping with?” Hubert asked point blank.

“Goddess! What the fuck, Hubert!?” Edelgard hissed.

“I’m serious, because it’s not me. What’s going on?” Hubert insisted.

“I’m not _sleeping_ with anyone! I have been _exhausted_ and busy with the recent House recruitment, Hubert. And by the way, as you know, we lost _two_ of our strongest assets! Should I repeat that!? We didn’t gain anybody! This is a _huge_ hole in the house! And you want to fucking sit over there and accuse _me_ of fucking someone else! Bullshit, Hubert!” Edelgard slammed her hands into the table as the thunder rolled. He motions nearly knocked over the candelabra.

“I’m…I’m sorry it’s just…you’re different and I…I just feel like an afterthought lately.” Hubert said. “If you would…if you’d let me help with more things pertaining to the House…”

“I don’t _need_ your help! I can…I can handle the House, okay? Just…” Edelgard huffed. “…just…give me some space for a while. I…I have to…figure some things out.” She said, standing up from the library table.

“See? This is just like you. You _never_ want to talk about anything. You just walk away or yell about it. Edie, I’m not going to be here for you forever! You can’t just up and decide how our relationship goes on your terms. There are _two_ of us here!” Hubert insisted. Edelgard spun around where she was.

“And _one_ of us is leaving. I’m staying with Hilda tonight. _Don’t_ try to come get me. We’ll talk in the morning.” Edelgard said, walking out of the library without another word. She needed to get out of here _fast_. Edelgard felt her skin hot all over as she made her way to the stairwell. She hurried as fast as her feet would carry her without tripping down the steps. Edelgard could feel her heart race as the stairwell dumped her out into the unforgiving, rainy night. She stood there on the wet stone landing, letting the rain soak her quickly. She looked up into the night sky, the lightning flashing in the distance. It was _so_ dark. Edelgard couldn’t think. She _was_ lying to Hubert and he was catching on. She hadn’t covered her tracks well enough. There was only one thing to do.

Edelgard could hardly make out the outlines of the dormitory doors in the darkness. She hesitated, heart racing, pulse pounding. She raised her fist and closed her eyes as the cold rain ran down her forehead. She slammed her fist into the door and looked to the rafters of the crude overhang. Edelgard’s rain-drenched form was met with surprise.

“Shit! Get in here! Look at you! Excuse the mess.” Petra said, stepping out of the way. Edelgard shook her head. She didn’t come to spend the night with Petra as she had done on several other occasions. She had come to…she wasn’t sure what she came for.

“I…” Edelgard began, her voice cracking in panic. “I…I don’t know what to do!” she said, breaking down.

“Ssshhh…come here. Come inside, please.” Petra said, coaxing Edelgard into her room.

“Hubert knows…Petra….he knows. Well, he doesn’t _know_ …know but he knows. He knows something is off and that I…and…he…and I just…”

“Okay, okay…stop. I’m getting you something else to wear. You are soaking wet.” Petra dug in her drawer while Edelgard talked incessantly, none of it making any sense. Her words were intermittently interrupted with tears.

“Here. You put this on. Look at me.” Petra said, lying dry clothes on her bed for Edelgard. “You are so used to being in control of everything. Now, you don’t have control and that scares you. You know how much I like you…how much I wish for you to be with me. But I am not going to do this with the tears. Okay? A relationship cannot survive that. You have to pick, Edelgard. I thought you had told Hubert already. You cannot have me _and_ him.” Petra explained sternly. “I can’t offer you what Hubert can in terms of nobility, but I _can_ offer you other things he cannot. Now, you can stay if you wish but Edelgard…you have a decision to make.” Edelgard defeatedly shook her head as she stood there still wet.

“I know…I know I do. I just…I’m so…. very conflicted. I just yelled at Hubert and completely shut down on him. He just kept…asking all these questions and I snapped and…”

“He only wishes for the truth, Edelgard. The same as I. You cannot hold that against him.” Petra said, logically. And, she was right. All Hubert wanted was to know what was happening between them. The problem was that one very powerful force _stood_ between them.

“Petra, the recruitment was a disappointment and I’ve been…” Petra cut Edelgard off.

“Stop. You cannot make excuses. The House is still strong. _You_ are still strong.” Petra said, putting her hand on Edelgard’s chin. “Don’t be so selfish. You don’t think that I never questioned what it was I wanted? Do really you think that I’ve never had to make a choice? I have and it was not easy, but it was right.” Petra said.

“What choice was that?” Edelgard asked. Petra’s face became very serious as she studied Edelgard. “The choice to let Shamir go. I was immature, I was irresponsible. She was the love of my life, but she needed a woman…not a girl. _You_ are a woman…not a girl. Don’t dance around the issue with Hubert. You must decide and I hope you decide to let me love you.” Petra said. She had nothing but fondness in her eyes for Edelgard. As Edelgard stood there, she couldn’t calm her mind. This was too grand a decision and right now, she felt that no matter her decision…she would lose it all.

* * *

The wyverns were restless, especially Claude’s. They hated storms and the constant scratching, growling, low screeching, and general chatter indicated their discontent. Claude’s wyvern was especially upset. She was uncomfortable, squirming, kicking at her stall and vocalizing far more than typical. She had also built a nest. “She picked a great day to lay an egg.” Seteth said sarcastically to Claude. She let out a low growl, huffing repeatedly through her nose.

“She’s close. I’m going to go in there with ‘er, so she doesn’t crush the egg when she does lay.” Claude said.

“Be careful, she’s really uncomfortable and the storm isn’t helping.” Seteth cautioned.

“It’ll be alright, she trusts me. Even at her pissiest, she trusts me.” Claude assured him. She continued to huff and spit through her nose, a general wyvern sign of upset.

“Heeey, hey. Ssshhh…ssshh…ssshh…you’ll be okay.” He said to her, running his hand along her snout. She growled again, breathing heavier and blinking slowly at Claude. Claude carefully examined her swollen abdomen. She could only be described gracefully as ‘ripe’ to lay her egg. Her body was sending all the signs that it was time. “Theeere you go, you’re okay.” Claude said, putting his hands on her abdomen softly as to not alarm her.

“Can you feel it?” Seteth asked.

“Oh yeah, it’s _right_ here and I swear I think there may be two.” Claude said.

“That could explain why she’s so upset.” Seteth said. “I’ll go get the water to clean her up when she lays.” The rain beat the roof intently as the thunder rumbled. That only made the wyverns snort and hiss more.

“Hey Seteh! Seteth! Hurry up! The egg is coming!” Claude announced as the wyvern let out a most unhappy screech and wrestled with the sides of her stall. Claude had to be careful that she didn’t accidentally kick him _or_ step on her egg. “Ooooh, Seteth! We have an egg!” Claude said, seeing as a perfectly oblong wyvern egg landed in the nest, not without a mess to follow. Seteth hurried back to her stall with the water.

“Oh shit! Look at that, Claude!” Seteth said excitedly, watching Claude’s wyvern continue to squirm and snort. She let out another screech and flailed her head around slightly. “Claude! She _is_ laying another!” Seteth practically shouted over the pounding rain and watching Claude’s wyvern squat into the nest. Now, there were two perfectly oblong eggs. It was a fantastic day for wyvern enthusiasts. Claude’s wyvern growled and scratched at the ground more while Claude took a risk to wiggle behind her to ensure she didn’t crush the eggs with her tail. She didn’t like Claude holding on to her tail, but she didn’t completely protest it either. She still seemed restless and unhappy.

“Seteth…oooooh my Goddess! Seteth! She’s laying a third egg!!! A _third_ egg!!!” Claude exclaimed. And as she let out another shriek, sure enough…three oblong wyvern eggs.

“That’s unheard of! I can’t believe it! A wyvern hasn’t laid three eggs here in years!” Seteth couldn’t hide his excitement as Claude did his best to dodge the mess, she had made to praise her. His wyvern’s demeanor had become suddenly contented as he rubbed her neck and sung her praises.

“Go look at them!” Claude said with his enormous smile. Suddenly, this storm wasn’t so bad. Seteth took the bucket of water and carefully made his way toward her nest.

“Aaaaaaah, it’s incredible! Three eggs! Let’s get you cleaned up, momma!” Seteth cooed at her dipping a large towel into the water and beginning to wipe the wyvern down. She didn’t mind as long as Claude comforted her. Her breathing had returned to normal. It wouldn’t be long before her mothering instincts would kick in and she would sit on her nest. Right now, she cooed in delight as Claude scratched her neck. Seteth was overjoyed. “I can’t wait to watch her nest! This will be a delight.” She would be on her nest for the next two months. Claude shook his head.

“Are you proud? Hmm? Are ya’? Dooon’t step on your babies!” Claude sing-songed at her, tapping her nose. She gave Claude a pleasant coo despite the unruly wyverns around her. “No. Doooooon’t step on your babies!” he repeated to her, dropping a kiss on her snout. She cooed again and turned her head upside down at Claude. In Wyvern-speak, it meant I love you. “Alright, Seteth. I’m going to go wash my hands and check to see how much flooding is in the back ditch.” Claude said.

“Very well. She’s all cleaned up. I’ll watch her for a few more minutes to make certain she doesn’t step on the eggs. I’ll tell you when she’s on the nest.” With that, Claude gave Seteth a nod and made his way to the back of the barn as other wyverns voiced their opinion to him with their snorts and screeches of just how much they disliked this storm

Claude washed his hands up to his elbows in the sink near the sliding door on the wyvern enclosure. He shook his hands dry and slid the door open despite the continued protests from the wyverns around him. “Oh damn, it is _really_ coming down out here.” He said to no one in particular as he watched the torrential sheets pour from the darkened sky. The sound of the beating rain mixed the occasional distant thunder was hypnotic. Claude’s attention was diverted to the ditch, running hard with water and about to breech its own crevice. It wasn’t even worth sandbagging, letting it spill over was the only option. “Damn it…” he muttered. Claude looked up only to see a figure amidst the pouring rain in the immediate distance. He squinted, trying to see through the nearly opaque sheets. “What the!?” Claude exclaimed, rather shocked by the figure approaching him. “Oooh my godde….look at you!” He said, now that his visitor was in full view.

Byleth breathed hard, having run most of the way to the wyvern enclosure. “Hi…” she began, trying to catch her breath as she created a puddle beneath her on the floor.

“What the hell, teach!? Here…take that off, you’re soaked!” Claude said, removing his heavy poncho and handing it over. She still hadn’t said anything. “Did you…how did you get out here? Did you run? Did you take one of the horses out?” Claude questioned. Byleth didn’t answer him, she wrung her own poncho out onto the floor and looked up at Claude, concern and worry in his eyes.

“How serious were you?” she asked.

“About what?” he asked.

“About what you told me when we were at the brawling tournament…I knew exactly where to find you…but I now I need to know how serious you are.” Byleth said. Claude fluttered his eyes and looked around.

“One minute.” He lipped to her, holding a finger in the air and taking off. “Hey, uh…Seteth? Is she okay?” Claude called, sudden nervousness in his voice.

“She’s fine. She’s on the nest now.” Seteth called back.

“Ooo…okay. Um…You…you can take off…if you want. I’m going to stay here for a while.” Claude said, unconvincingly. Like Seteth was just going to up and go to the monastery in the pouring rain? Dumb move, Claude.

“I’ll wait until the rain let’s up.” Seteth yelled over the rain on the roof.

“Fuck…” Claude lipped. “Alright. I’ll um…I’ll be back here watching the ditch.” Claude said, motioning Byleth toward the edge of the stone floor. “I’m sorry, I thought he might take off. Um…” Claude looked around at the squawking wyverns. “…I’m very serious.” He said softly, the rain drowning this conversation.

“I’m going to need some sort of proof.” Byleth said, seriously. Claude looked around again before pulling her wet lips into his against a backdrop of heavy rain. His kiss was tender, intense and he wasted _no_ time in pulling her dripping wet body against his. Claude’s kiss was the most passionate, firey, tongue-driven, unfulfilled desire that Byleth had no idea she missed. Claude grabbed her hand and quickly slid it between his legs causing Byleth to moan unexpectedly. He pulled his lips away from hers leaving Byleth breathless and wanting _more_. Claude eyed her flustered state.

“How’s that?” Claude asked fixing his eyes on her and leaning up against the edge of the open door. Byleth nodded her head nervously, her entire body shaking from…chill? Nerves? Excitement? All of that?

“That’s…yeah…” she said. “Yeah…that…that’ll…work…” she said incoherently. Claude extended his hand toward Byleth, motioning her toward him. He pulled her back against him, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and leaning his head against her.

“Teach…How about you and I go into town for a few days? Take some time off. Put your House under someone else’s direction. I’ll take care of all the arrangements. All you need to do is meet me with your overnight bag at the marketplace at the end of this week.” Claude suggested.

“You be the teacher…I’ll the lesson.” She said softly. Claude settled into the side of her head.

“I’ll school your well, Teach. I have but one request.” He said. Byleth was attentive as she turned her head toward Claude. “I’m going to pour champagne all over your pussy and you have to teach me _exactly how to lick it up.”_ Thank Goddess only the storm heard that.


	7. Into the Night

Alois was the definition of a functional alcoholic. You couldn’t help but like the guy but at any given time, he was _never_ 100% sober. Most of the time, he was a good 85%. He started every morning with scotch in his coffee and ended every day with scotch on the rocks chased with Amarula crème liqueur. Some days, he was more hungover than overs. Today was a hungover day. Even in his nauseas, dehydrated state, he could run one _hell_ of a drill. He understood the importance of good formation and placement. Granted, maybe he ran a great drill because Catherine and Shamir were in the background fine tuning his slurred directives. It was the third morning drill for the new Blue Lions and the last one for the week. The field was still a wreck from the hard rain earlier in the week. In fact, it would have been a better idea to have cancelled drill due to the ground conditions, but with Alois in charge instead of the professor, he insisted on mimicking real battle conditions.

Ingrid was _never_ late to drill. This morning, she was over half an hour late hour late because she had been with Mercedes in the infirmary. All week long, Ingrid had been having what she referred to as ‘sex so incredible that she would rather starve than miss a chance to be in Sylvain’s bed.’ The only problem was that this morning, she and Sylvain got _really_ carried away which resulted in Ingrid’s prompt need of a morning after pill. Their last trip to the infirmary revolved around sexually transmitted diseases and here they were, not even a month later for… _this._ Ingrid thought it was sweet that Sylvain came with her…since he came _in_ her and all. Sweet Mercedes. That woman was an angel. She was the only person in the history of ever who could wear her adorable smile and in her gentle tone, say ‘here we go!’ while handing over emergency contraception. Technically, Ingrid had 72 hours to do this…but she figured since it had only been fifty-eight minutes and since she and Sylvain were already late to drill, what was an additional five minutes to swallow a pill?

It was an abysmal morning. The wind was blowing angrily, carrying on it the last of the unusual cold front. _Everything_ and _everyone_ were _covered_ in mud. The horses were a mess, the equipment was a mess, nearly all of the spells that had been cast were duds because of the dampness, which caused a foul-smelling dust to loom, and there were standing puddles every three steps. 

It could have been worse though; Ingrid could have been Sylvain positioned right in front of Alois and having to deal with him in one ear and Ferdinand in the other. Poor guy. It wasn’t Ferdinand’s fault that the last thing Sylvain wanted to discuss this morning was right flank formation.

“Hey! Hey! Dorothea!’ Ingrid called. She was standing in front of Ingrid, just out of earshot enough as to not hold a conversation. Ingrid motioned Dorothea back toward her.

“You okay?” Dorothea asked, seeing as Ingrid was leaned over slightly, swaying back and forth.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Sway with me, it makes us look like we’re doing something.” Ingrid said. Dorothea laughed.

“Okay, sure.”

“Are you and Felix friends?” Ingrid questioned, jumping right into her conversation that she so desperately wanted to have. Dorothea twisted her brow at Ingrid, not following what she meant.

"What do you mean?"

“If you took everything physical out of your relationship would you still be together?” Ingrid clarified.

“Oh, yeah…yeah we absolutely would.” Dorothea said.

“Okay, but are you _friends_?” Ingrid repeated.

“Yes, we are. I would venture to say we are best friends. Felix tells me everything, I tell him everything. He knows what pushes my buttons and vice versa. He knows and supports my dreams for the future, I know and support his. He’s _very_ different when it’s just he and I. Transparent, vulnerable…I don’t think anyone else sees that.”

“Okay, yes! _That!_ So, it _is_ possible to _also_ have incredible, unapologetically _amazing_ sex with your friend?”

“Where are you going with all this?” Dorothea asked, laughing at Ingrid.

“Sylvain and I…we are…an actual couple and I haven’t told you until right now. All week, he and I have been having the best sex of our lives and all I can think about is holy shit how did he get _that good_ and when can I get more!?”

“Well, you two are a _really_ good fit so good job with that. But, He’s not _that_ good. Hear me out. He’s only as good as you say he is because he’s comfortable with you.” Dorothea paused, watching Ingrid digest her words. “A man being comfortable with you is what _makes_ him good.” Ingrid stopped swaying and stared at Dorothea as if she had just handed Ingrid the keys to Fhirdiad.

“Damn...No wonder the professor wanted you in this House. That’s _gooood_. That’s…okay you’re…you’re spot on. You’re right.” Ingrid agreed. Dorothea smiled all over.

“How long has this been going on?”

“Just this month. And it’s not weird. I thought it would be.” Ingrid said. “Here! Sway! Sway!” She panicked, realizing she and Dorothea had stopped moving.

“I’m excited for you. Sylvain’s a good guy. After you get past the fact that he's...him, he's alright.” Dorothea laughed.

“Speaking of comfortable…” Ingrid started she lowered her voice so no one else could hear, not that they could. “…have you ever taken a morning after pill?”

“Once.” Dorothea scoffed. “Goddess…Felix _freaked_ the fuck out on me. “Dee! I don’t know what happened! Damn it, this is all my fault! What the hell is this going to do to you!? Hmph!” Ingrid covered her face laughing.

“Oooh my…you do a _really_ good frustrated Felix, you know that?” Dorothea smiled.“Are there any side effects? That pill’s the reason I was late for drill.” Ingrid said.

“Um, I don’t think it was the pill that made you run late. No, there’s no side effects. But…if you think that… _situation_ …is going to be a concern, let me know.” Dorothea couldn’t elaborate because she had just gotten hit with a wave of mud and water from Ashe’s arrow striking the ground nearby. “Imagine that, more mud.” She said.

“And would you look at that? Those leg warmers are caked in mud.” Ingrid said, watching Felix take Catherine’s orders only to cake himself in more mud from the blade of his sword flinging dirty water into the air.

“Leg warmers?” Dorothea questioned.

“Yeah, Those navy-blue things...well, those muddy navy-blue things Felix wears.”

“Those aren’t leg warmers.” Dorothea said. Ingrid looked confused.

“Then what are they?” Dorothea thought for a moment.

“Huh. I’m not sure. We’ve never really discussed that. But there are twelve pair in my drawer. Six black, six navy.”

“Dorothea! That would have been the first thing I would have covered with him! Hey, you gotta' pull out three seconds faster also what are those navy-blue things you wear!?” Ingrid said. Dorothea laughed.

“Well, whatever they are, they are moving to his dorm. We are moving today thank Goddess! You and I are going to have so much fun.” Ingrid smiled.

“That’s right, we are!”

* * *

Byleth sat at the small table along the wall in Dimitri’s room, watching him rotate his teacup but not drinking any tea. She nervously shook her leg and repeatedly picked at her finger. The silence was tense though Dimitri couldn’t feel it. Byleth sighed heavily. “Dimitri, I’m supposed to be leading drill right now but I’m missing that to be here…with you. I’ve missed two meetings this week, I had to cancel a seminar, I missed my office conference time three times and dinner with Ferdinand and Lorenz. I’ve missed everything I needed to do so I could be here with you…and you haven’t said a _word_.” Byleth said, her voice slightly cracking. Dimitri didn’t look up.

“What do you want me to say?” he asked. Byleth shook her head and wiped a tear.

“You could…you could start with _thank you_. Is that…so hard? You could say…thank you for running the House or thank you for giving up over half of your day and cancelling every damn thing to be here. You could even say thank you for making you tea only to sit here and watch you not drink it.” Byleth said, feeling herself becoming irritated and saddened at the same time. Dimitri said nothing, he sat across from her and sulked. Byleth sighed, even more frustrated than she had been. “If you don’t say something…I’m leaving.” She threatened. Dimitri finally looked up.

“You can leave.” He said. “I don’t care…I don’t care what’s going on in the House. I don’t care what you’re doing with the House. I don’t care about anything. I only care about _my_ sins. I cannot atone for them…for the wrong I’ve committed in my life.” Dimitri said. Byleth closed her eyes for a moment. She desperately searched for her composure. Not so long-ago Dimitri had had _such_ a good day. She wondered what the hell happened?

“Do you _hear_ yourself? Why can I not reach you, huh? What do I have to do to reach you?” she asked, feeling a wave of emotion in her throat.

“There’s nothing to reach! _You_ can’t fix _me! I_ have to fix me.” Dimitri insisted.

“Well, you’re doing a _damn fine_ job, Dimitri! You just keep on fixing yourself and…and I’ll keep on holding everything together!” Byleth said, doing her best not to break. It was impossible to rationalize with Dimitri in his clinical state.

“It takes everything I have…to heal. It’s exhausting.” Dimitri said. As if his words couldn’t cut any deeper. 

“It’s _exhausting_? You know what else is exhausting? Staying up with you for twenty-four hours at a time! Watching you have a complete meltdown at three in the morning is exhausting! Being a nervous wreck about your medication is exhausting! Watching _you_ disintegrate is _exhausting_. And the irony of it all is that _you_ couldn’t _be_ exhausted if it weren’t for _me!_ ” Byleth covered her eyes with trembling hands as the tears began to fall. Dimitri didn’t say anything, he barely even glanced up. Her tears hardly phased him. She wiped her eyes and looked up.

“I love you, Dimitri…” she said. With her cracking voice.

“I don’t…” he absently said.

“You don’t what?” she asked.

“I don’t love you…or anyone. It’s meaningless. Love is not enough. I have sins for which to atone!" He repeated. "You aren’t helping! If anything, you are _meddling_ in what _I_ have to face on my own!” Byleth was speechless over his his incessant, illogical statements. “And please don’t cry.” He said flatly. “I can’t deal with that right now.” Of all the bad days, this one was the worst. She took a deep nervous breath, drying her eyes.

“You know what, Dimitri? I am _done_.” She said, wiping her tears. Byleth’s breath trembled as she attempted to calm herself. Her sadness and endearment were replaced with anger and frustration. Byleth had been bending for months…she had finally broken. “I’m done being an emotional punching bag. I’m done being ready at your beck and call. I’m done neglecting the House and I’m done neglecting _me._ I think I’ll leave you alone for now.” She said, standing up and leaving Dimitri to wallow in his pain. Byleth had a drill to run and she was going to angrily march right down there to the field and bark out orders before she could explode in a fit of tears. She didn’t need to cry, she needed to find Catherine and Shamir. She needed to turn the House over to their direction for a while. Above all? She needed to get her bags packed.

* * *

“Alright, alright…if you were straight…. who would you sleep with?” Shamir asked, chopping vegetables in Catherine’s kitchen. Catherine laughed and refilled her wine glass.

“What!?” she asked.

“Let’s say, you said to me, ‘Shamir, I want to experiment with a guy’, who would that be?” Shamir repeated, charmed by what Catherine may say. Catherine shook her head.

“Fair enough. Seteth.” She answered confidently.

“ _Really_? Seteth? Why?” she said, scooping her vegetables into the pot of boiling stock with the back of her knife. Catherine took a drink of zinfandel and laid back on her couch.

“He’s devout to the Church of Seiros, he’s experienced, intelligent…not one bit hard to look at.” Catherine explained. Shamir nodded her head, picking up her own wine glass while seasoning her soup.

“All valid points.” She pointed at Catherine. “I bet he has a daddy fetish.” Catherine laughed harder. “I’m serious Cat! I bet that’s his kink.”

“You’re funny. What about you? Who would it be?” Catherine asked.

“Without a doubt, Claude.” Shamir said, ladling her soup into bowls.

“Now that, I could see but why would you pick Claude?” Catherine asked, not volunteering to help Shamir with anything she was cooking.

“He and I are quite close, he’s _very_ sexy, very smooth, and he’s been with a guy before…so he gets it.” Shamir said.

“When did that happen?” Catherine asked, watching Shamir finish her wine and put the bowls, her glass and round loaf of bread onto a tray.

“Like a year or so ago. Claude went to Almyra for a while and let me tell you, he came back with a gorgeously crafted Almyran bow and a _fantastic_ story about going down on a high ranking virgin ambassador at a diplomatic party.” Shamir said, sitting the tray on the table before Catherine. She clapped her hands. “Dinner is served. I love how you laid on this couch the whole time and _now_ you help with the wine.” Shamir winked.

“I’m doing the most important part, refilling your glass.” Catherine said, doing just that. “Besides, I’ll make it up to you.” she winked back.

“Mm...hmm…you bet you will.” Shamir leaned forward, kissing Catherine over the table. Shamir raised her glass. “To daddy…” she said, her smirk sealing the deal. Catherine laughed.

“To daddy!” she said, clanging her glass into Shamir’s, kissing her once more before Shamir joined her. “Oh my, this is my favorite stew. I didn’t know _this_ is what you were doing over there.” Catherine said.

“I’m full of surprises.” Shamir said. “And…speaking of surprises...Felix. Did you know he had been basically living with Dorothea Arnault in her dorm? I helped him carry boxes to his room today. He’s got _so_ much stuff. That’s an odd combination, by the way. Ooooh, I bet those two have done _way_ freaky shit.” Shamir said. Catherine shook her head.

“Okay, first…stew is wonderful, thank you for cooking. Secondly, yes, I knew he was staying with her. Third, no. There’s no way anything freaky is going on there.” Catherine laughed.

“There _has_ to be! Felix is just too… _him_. OH! He probably talks her into knife play!! What else…getting burned with wax! I can see him being into that.” Shamir deduced. Catherine laughed and shook her head.

“You’re messed up, Shamir. There’s no way. He’s much too structured, too perfectionistic for that.”

“Tell you what. You know I love a good bet. So, I bet you that your prodigy is a freak in the sheets.” Shamir wagered. If you win, I’m giving you free reign to hit on Seteth.”

“And if you win?” Catherine asked. Shamir looked at her, with lovesick eyes.

“You and I move in together.” That caught Catherine’s attention. She didn't try to hide her Cheshire cat smile.

* * *

Edelgard flinched as she felt the blindfold tighten around her head. She swallowed hard, wiggling her fingers, hands retrained at her wrists, before feeling the hand in the middle of her back pushing her forward into the mattress. Edelgard breathed in both excitement and nervous anticipation because she knew what would come next.

“On your knees.” The voice commanded her, tugging Edelgard by her restrained hands. Edelgard and Hubert had the most toxic relationship. She manipulated him to the point that she could almost get by with murder and he would _never_ leave her. She gave him power, prestige, and security. All he really had to offer in return was the promise to protect her, the promise to do her dirty work and cater to her every carnal desire. It seemed like an uneven balance of power, but Hubert didn’t mind as long as he heard Edelgard moan his name the way she was currently. She loved when he tied her up, when he took her roughly from behind, and when he would gently sink his teeth into her neck.

It wasn’t that she had forgotten about Petra as she laid there face first in the pillow pleading for the man behind her; but she wasn’t _quite_ ready to cut ties with Hubert. He was, after all, _really_ good at knowing what lit Edelgard’s world on fire. But, Petra…oooh Petra. Edelgard wondered how appropriate it was to be growling for Hubert and fantasizing about Petra’s naked body all over hers. She felt Hubert reach up and untie the blindfold. He needed for Edelggard to _see_ the hungry look in his eyes as flipped her over. She was so enthusiastic, telling Hubert how good he was, begging him not to stop, and silently recalling the way Petra drove her completely crazy.

Perhaps Edelgard loved the struggle…the struggle against her restrained wrists, the struggle to resist Petra and the struggle to resist Hubert. There were two words that were foreign in Edelgard’s vocabulary: 'No' and 'choose'. After her yelling at Hubert and her emotional plea to Petra, her logical side kicked in and she wondered why she couldn’t have it all? Why couldn’t she have Hubert and Petra on the side…. or the other way around. Besides, Petra had even told Edelgard in the beginning…it was just two girls having a good time. Did Petra get in too deep? Was Edelgard in too deep? She couldn’t think about it right now. Edelgard had to focus on Hubert. As primal as she and Hubert could get, he had a streak of caring and concern in his actions. He always made sure Edelgard came before he did and always made sure her wrists weren’t tied very tightly. He loved how willing she was to submit to him, but Hubert never took it too far. The louder Edelgard became, the more she excited Hubert. He always knew she was close when she put her restrained hands over her head, grabbed onto anything she could reach and wore out his name. Sure, Hubert wasn’t _Petra_ …but Petra wasn’t _him_.

* * *

Claude knocked on Dimitri’s door before taking it upon himself to open it. In the darkened room, Claude looked at Dimiti’s blanketed form in the light of the full moon.

“Dimitri? Dimitri. Can you wake up and listen to me for a minute?” Claude asked, closing the door and walking across the room; watching Dimitri breathe heavily roll over. It seemed as though Dimitri hadn’t been entirely asleep. Claude sat down in the chair near Dimitri’s bedside.

“What do _you_ want?” Dimitri mumbled irritably before attempting to bury his face in his pillow. Claude studied Dimitri’s tired, worn down features. He had bags under his eyes, his eyelids were swollen, his skin was deathly pale and his hair brittle and dirty. Claude hadn’t realized it was _this_ bad. The cool light of the moon made his features all the more ghostly.

“What do I want?” Claude repeated, shaking his head. “Ah, what a question…what a question. What do _you_ want, Dimitri?”

“I was resting, and I want to be _left alone!_ ” he said, pulling the covers up around his neck. Claude laughed and chewed on his lip.

“You want to be alone? Well, buddy, I can make that happen for you.” he said, standing up and walking over to the stone ledge underneath the windows where Dimitri’s medication sat in a row. “Do you have any idea how pathetic you are? You don’t even try. The saddest thing is that you don’t even _care_ enough to try!”

“There isn’t a reason to try!” Dimitri said, his face now buried.

“Really? There isn’t a reason? You can’t think…of one damn reason…to get your _shit_ together? You can’t think of… _any one thing_ …that might be worth getting your ass out of bed!?” Claude asked, reading the labels on the medication bottles before opening the one he had selected.

“Damn you! Let me sleep!” Dimitri hissed. Claude took a pill in his palm, examining it before laying it on the flat, stone surface. He scanned the ledge and the pile of Dimitri’s things in the floor before noticing a knife amidst the mess. He took it from its leather scabbard and proceeded to smash the pill with the flat side of the knife, pressing the weight of his palm into the blade.

“That’s too bad, Dimitri. Because, I can’t think of a reason and it’s not your damn kingdom, either. But, since all you can do is lie there and give up, then I’m going to make it easy for you.” Claude said, pushing the ground up pill around with his finger before taking the glass beside the bedside pitcher and scooping the powder into it. He took the pitcher and filled the glass, swirling the mixture around.

“Nothing is easy!” Dimitri insisted. Claude gave Dimitri a condescending chuckle.

“Oh, but it is. You make it very easy, actually. What’s it like to know that…you are destroying _everything_ that you love…you sick, sad, prince.” He sighed, still swirling the water around in the glass, examining it in the moonbeams. Claude shook his head.

“I love nothing! There’s nothing left.” He said, not offering to show his face. Claude watched Dimitri, not replying to his delusional statement.

“Ya’ know, somewhere underneath all of that…worthlessness that you are…I do like you. I really do. But…I like something you have a lot more. And that’s why, I need to ask you… _not_ to take this _too_ personally.” Claude chuckled. “Oh, and Dimitri? It’s not you…it’s me…” he said, sliding the glass onto Dimitri’s bedside table. And with that, he left Dimitri alone, closing the door behind him.

* * *

The full moon was simply brilliant tonight. Byleth leaned up against the massive stone pillar, deeply inhaling the crisp night air. Her face-framing minty layers shown of silver under the moonlight. The lightest breeze rustled through the outlying marketplace while the dogs barked in the near distance. Spring was beginning to infiltrate the night. Byleth was calm, collected, almost _uncomfortably_ pleasant. Tonight, she had completely left her professor persona behind in the monastery, trading in her everyday gear for ethereal chiffon and lace. She shifted her weight from the pillar, standing in the middle of the archway above her. Byleth smiled softly at the sight coming toward her. Claude was _irresistible_. Like her, he had abandoned his daily academy wear for something much more comfortable and _much_ easier to take off. He was overwhelmed at the sight of her, stopping in his steps and putting a hand over his mouth. He was close enough to Byleth that she could smell the heavy incense and sweet earth that hung on his clothes. Her eyes traced the V in his shirt before fixating on deep green eyes. “Byleth…” he finally said quietly, not using her typical salutation.

“Claude…” she said almost as softly. She put her hands on his chest, sliding her palms to either side of his neck before pressing her lips into his. Claude brushed his thumb against Byleth’s cheek. “You don’t have any bags.” She said, just as softly. Claude smiled, enamored by her every move.

“I don’t need any.” He said.

“Oh?” Byleth questioned, her lips barely away from his.

“You’ll see.” Claude answered, raising his eyebrows and slinging her two bags over his shoulder before interlacing his fingers with hers.


	8. This is Our House. These are Our Rules

Sylvain and Ingrid hadn’t officially appeared anywhere as a couple…except the infirmary. It came as a pleasant surprise when Sylvain got an invite to a party Lorenz was hosting in town. What _didn’t_ come as a surprise is that Lorenz assured Sylvain, he wouldn’t return to the Monastery alone. Needless to say, it was rather shocking to Lorenz to see Sylvain show up with Ingrid. It wasn’t that he particularly hung out with Lorenz, but since Lorenz was on the House roster and all and there would be free drinks all night…why not go to Lorenz’s party? Furthermore, why not show really shake Lorenz up by with a very attractive blonde instead of going home with one?

There was rarely an instance when Lorenz didn’t have money. Tonight, was no exception. An odd crowd had gathered for Lorenz’s party: Caspar, Hilda, Raphael, Lysithea and Ferdinand. Then, there was the other crowd…Sylvain, Ingrid, Dorothea, and Felix having been invited but choosing to train instead. Finally, there was the unexpected crowd, Ashe, and Annette. Lorenz didn’t need a reason to celebrate. The fact that he was fabulous was reason enough. 

The party was well underway and plenty of drinks had left the bartender’s hand. Neither Ashe nor Annette could hold their liquor…at all... and so they had both stopped drinking before the night even got started. Lysithea had been giving Dorothea and Ingrid the side eye all evening. Granted, she seemed to be irritated with everything about Lorenz’s party. She hated the way Ingrid and Dorothea laughed half-drunkenly with Ferdinand. She hated how Lorenz was ignoring her and she was stuck at a table with Ashe, the lightweight and her mage role model, Annette. She pouted because the tavern was too loud and noisy for she and Annette to have a decent conversation though they both tried. Since nothing was going according to her agenda, Lysithea had made the decision to sit back, be judgmental and generally pissed off. 

Ingrid and Dorothea were currently peer pressuring Ferdinand and Lorenz into taking shots with them. “I don’t know Ingrid; this just doesn’t seem very noble!” Ferdinad remarked, examining the double shot glass. 

“Ferdinand, seriously!? Take the damn shot with us! You’re disappointing Lorenz!” Dorothea said. 

“Actually, I see your point, Ferdinand. If I do any shots, I’ll get sloppy and far less classy than I generally am!” Lorenz said, flipping his hair to the side. Lysithea was watching this unfold at the table that Ashe and Annette had left. She even more pissed than she had been, rolling her eyes at the fact that Lorenz had made zero effort to include her. 

“Please! Lorenz…Ferdinand…you two are Blue Lions now and in this House we hold our liquor.” Ingrid said, shoving a shot before Lorenz. She and Dorothea laughed, much to Lysithea’s disgust. She hated Dorothea and Ingrid though her reasons weren’t entirely clear. As she watched them laugh and hug on each other, carrying on with Lorenz and Ferdinand, she felt so small…so insignificant…like a child. Lysithea hated feeling like a child. 

“Alright! Alright, I’ll do it! I’ll lower my standards, just for you, Ingrid!” Lorenz agreed, receiving cheers from Ingrid and Dorothea. 

“Ferdinand?” Dorothea questioned. “From one Blue Lion to another?” she said, holding her shot glass up to him. Ferdinand sighed. 

“Ready for anything!” he said before the four of them clanked shot glasses and threw them back. 

While all this was unfolding, Sylvain had been caught up in conversation with the bartender. He hadn’t been able to get away to encourage the mayhem unfolding not far behind him. 

“Hey.” A voice called to Sylvain. “You’re Sylvain Gautier, yeah?” Sylvain turned to face the woman who had approached him. 

“Yeah.” He answered. She smiled and sucked on the cherry from her glass. 

“I’ve heard of you. You’re heir to quite the healthy sum of money, aren’t you?” she pressed on. Sylvain rolled his eyes, knowing where this was headed.

“Let me make this very easy for you. I have a girlfriend. She’s over there about to get much drunker than she already is.” Sylvain said, spitting ice back into his glass. The woman laughed. She was very pretty and judging by the way she was standing so close to Sylvain, this could have been a very easy lay. Could have been. Sylvain hadn’t bargained on his past reputation haunting him tonight…but here it was, laden in too much perfume and practically drooling on his shoulder. 

“So?” was her response. “Why don’t you…buy me another drink and while your girlfriend is occupied with her friend…I’ll go down on you out back in the alley.” She said, brushing a hand over Sylvain’s thigh. He wished so much that Ingrid would walk over to him right about now. Sylvain’s past life flashed before his eyes. A month and a half ago, he would have taken this girl up on her offer and more. In fact, he probably would have come on to her first. And now, here she was, her hand on his thigh and he suddenly felt very sick…not because he had made a promise to Ingrid and he was obliged to resist this temptation, but because in this moment, he realized just how much he had with Ingrid. In the limited time he and Ingrid had been together, she had changed him. He had always feared an actual relationship because he was convinced he would miss _this_. And now that that the offer was literally, almost in his lap, he abhorred it. He felt so dirty right now, as if he were actually cheating on Ingrid. Sylvain had been raised to never speak ill to a woman. He was just drunk enough to forget about his upbringing. He leaned closer toward her, giving her his most flirtatious stare. 

“What’s your name?” he asked with his irresistible smile. 

“Leana.” She answered with her cherry-soaked lips. Sylvain snickered.

“Leana…get your hand off of my leg…you _fucking, gold-digging, slut_.” She was mortified. No man had ever spoken to her like that. 

“You _asshole_!” she said, throwing the rest of her drink in Sylvain’s face. As she walked away, Sylvain couldn’t help but smile. That face full of ice and booze had been completely worth it. He spun around on the barstool to pull Ingrid away from Dorothea and get out of here. Much to his shock, there she stood.

“Ingrid!” he exclaimed. “I…can completely explain why I’m all wet right now.” Ingrid smiled and shook her head. 

“You don’t have to. I saw enough.” She blushed…or maybe that was the shot. “Youuuuu like me!” She laughed again and threw herself into Sylvain’s arms. 

“I'm so glad you're here." He said, rubbing his hand along her back." he laughed. "Goddess! You have had a lot to drink. C'mon, let's call it a night. We need to leave before Lorenz starts hitting everyone in the face with his hair."

“Okay, let me say by to Dorothea.” She said, still smiling all over, her arms still wrapped around him. “Sylvain? I’m all wet too.” She confessed.

"We can take care of that." He said, kissing her cheek. Lorenz's party wasn't supposed to be a test...but it was a great feeling to Sylvain to know he passed with ease. 

* * *

“Here it is.” Catherine said, tossing a well-wrapped, oblong, item at Felix. He reflexively caught it and looked puzzled, standing there glancing between the item and Catherine.

“Don’t just stand there! Open it! You’ve begged me for it for weeks. Be careful. It’s razor sharp and built to fit _your_ hand.” Catherine encouraged. Felix unwrapped the cloth covering, revealing a black lacquer scabbard. His smile spoke volumes. He was delighted.

“Ooooooh! Yes. Yes. This is fantastic!” He said, carefully pulling the sword from the scabbard. Wow. It’s…oooh look at that. _Look_ at it! It’s the best. Thank you. I love it!” Felix said hardly able to contain himself. He had begged Catherine for this killing edge. It had taken quite some time to be finished.

“I thought you may like it. It’s all cut to your exact measurements. The only thing left to do is wrap the grip. I want you to try a couple materials first and then we’ll decide on how tacky to make it."

“Goddess! It’s so light! It’s perfect! It’s absolutely perfect.” Felix was madly in love. Nothing got his pulse up like the feeling of a new sword in hand.

“Here. Try it out so I can take it back to the blacksmith if you need adjustments.” Catherine said, picking up one of the not so perfectly craft steel training swords. “Felix, that’s sharp enough to slice your arm off! Don’t come at me but go at the dummy. Remember, that blade has high probability of a fatality, so chances are, you’ll bust the dummy. Felix nodded at Catherine while feeling the weight in his hand. He took a few mid-air practice swings to get the feeling of a blade that had been fashioned exactly for him. Catherine coated her hands in rosin and shook off the excess as she instructed Felix to face the mirror. “Do that follow through again. Square your hips. Okay, stop.” Catherine positioned herself behind Felix and pulled his arm back. There. If you don’t think there is enough weight to finish the follow through, we can put a weight in the pummel. A little weight will force your arm to carry it. Look there! Look at this line!” Catherine was so excited. “See? Now _that’s_ some form I can get on board with! Beautiful! Cock your wrist…” Catherine said, tapping Felix’s wrist before grabbing it. Watch. So, the wrist is bent and now you’ll come across your left side all the way.” She said, guiding his arm over to his left. “Bend, bend…more…bend. There! Aaaaand, now your hand is in reverse assassin’s grip and in the event, you didn’t fuck someone’s world up with the first blow, you will with this one!” Catherine said happily. Felix was tickled. It charmed Catherine that Felix go so worked up. Because of his enthusiasm, she often lost track of time any time they trained. “Alright, go bust up those dummies. I wanna’ hear that blade pop.” She coached. She didn’t have to ask Felix twice, watching him prepare his stance before obliterating the first dummy. Catherine would shift the blame for all the busted dummies to whomever had been axe training before she and Felix took over. It was an adrenaline rush to hear his sword pop…evidence of how deadly it could be and how finely crafted it was. He turned around to face Catherine, more than pleased with the performance.

“Whew! Now _that_ is a weapon! That...Catherine, I can't thank you enough.” he remarked, sheathing the blade once again as to not accidentally cut off his own hand.

“It gives me chills! I’m very happy you like it.” Catherine took a seat at the edge of the training ring. “Now…” she paused, crossing her arms before her. “You _can_ thank me. I need you to do something for _me_.”

“Okay? He questioned.

“Are you into weird stuff in the bedroom?” Catherine asked, getting straight to her point. It caught Felix entirely off guard.

“What!?” he exclaimed.

“I’m serious! What kind of messed up stuff gets you _hot_?” Catherine persisted.

“What the…?! I’m not in to _messed up_ stuff!” Felix threw his hands out to either side.

“Ha! I was right…” Catherine proclaimed. However, she instantly became her own buzz kill. “Damn it, I was right…Okay, I need you…to do me an enormous favor. I need you to tell Shamir that you like it kinky.”

“What!? No!” Felix protested.

“Yes!” Catherine pleaded.

“No!”

“ _PLEEEEEEASE_!”

“Why?” Felix crossed his arms and studied her with a scowl.

“I have to lose a bet!” Catherine said.“Lose? You have to _lose_ a bet?” he questioned. Catherine huffed.

“The other night Shamir and I were having dinner and we were talking, and she wagered that you were into freaky things in bed and I said no you weren’t. And she’s going to ask you, and I desperately _need_ you to tell her that you like it loud and you like it raw!!” Catherine begged.

“ _I DO NOT_ like it lou…okay, I _might_ like it a little loud…” Felix shook his head frustratedly. “You know what, never mind! What do you get if you lose?” Felix asked.

“She and I move in together.” Catherine said quickly, her face turning pink. Felix’s demeanor changed. He smiled sincerely.

“Catherine…” he said endearingly, not _ever_ hearing Catherine speak so fondly of a situation. “Wait…wait, wait… you two were _talking!? This_ is what you girls talk about!?” Felix said, snapping out of his pleasant tone.

“Well, yeah. I mean, you were just part of the conversation. We also talked about who we would sleep with if we were straight and…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa…. whoa… _this_ is your _dinner_ conversation?” Felix asked, wrapping his mind around it.

“Felix, what do you _think_ girls talk about when they’re together?” Catherine asked.

“I….pft….I….I don’t know….uh….hair?” Felix answered, stumbling over his words. Catherine shook her head in disappointment.

“Oh Felix. You are so gifted with a blade…and yet…also a complete dumbass. Your girlfriend hangs out with Ingrid, right? Ingrid's with Sylvain right? ”

“Yeah…” Felix answered. Catherine shook her head again.

“Let me tell you something. When those two get together, they aren’t discussing hair and fashion and…bullshit. They are discussing _you_. They are discussing _Sylvain_. They are comparing _you_ and _Sylvain_.” Catherine finished. Felix gasped; his expression utterly horrific.

“I…that’s…no!” he started. “They don’t talk about… _really!?_ ”

“Really.” Catherine answered flatly. Felix sighed.

“Fine! What do you want me to tell Sha…” he asked, caving to Catherine’s request. She cut him off before he could even get Shamir’s name out.

“Bondage. Tell her you’re into _hardcore_ bondage.” Felix nodded.

“Oh! I could tell her Dee and I are into…intooo…what else could we be into?” Catherine smiled.

“You call her Dee? That’s precious. Tell Shamir Dorothea _loves it_ rough! Tell her it gets you all hot and bothered when you leave bruises! Tell her you’re _so_ good at going down on her that you make her…”

“Stop.” Felix said pointing a finger at Catherine. He lowered his voice. “I _am_ good at going down on Dee.” Catherine was shocked.

“Are you…. _serious_ right now? You go down on her? Regularly?” she asked.

“Yes, and yes.” Felix assured.

“Huh.” Catherine said, a huge smile across her face. “I’m impressed, Felix. I’m impressed. I didn’t think you’d be the type.” Catherine nodded approvingly.

“What type?”

“The type to go down on your girl. I’ve always envisioned you as incredibly selfish in the bedroom.” Catherine admitted. Suddenly, Felix had the upper hand on this conversation. He laughed.

“Catherine!” Felix scolded, sitting down beside her and leaning in her direction. “I am _very_ generous behind closed doors. Now, I may not be into all the stuff you and Shamir want me to be into… but I am _way_ into Dee.” Catherine studied Felix’s overly confident expression. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to know more or if she wanted to punch him in the face. Catherine shook her head in defeat.

“You win this round. Just… _please_ tell Shamir you’d have an orgy if the opportunity presented itself.” Catherine said.

“I will…I will. I promise. I’ll make certain you lose this bet.” Felix promised her. “I have to go. I need to send clothes over to laundry before the last pickup tonight. I want it done before Dee gets back from Lorenz’s party.” Catherine smiled mischievously at Felix’s domestic evening he had planned. She made the best whipping noise she could and repeatedly flicked Felix’s shoulder.

“Listen to you…whipped…just like all the bondage you’re into.” She said, continuing her torment.

“Stoooop!” Felix swatted at her and reached a hand over his shoulder to grab Catherine’s wrist.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m whipped too.” She admitted.

“I’ll keep that in mind when the time comes, I need some odd favor from you. ‘Night Catherine.”

* * *

It may have been the most perfect of mornings. The light streamed through the floor to ceiling windows, the early May driving its light through clear glass and illuminating Byleth’s form in her semi-blanketed state. She woke suddenly, raising her face from the divine sea of pillows beneath her. She sighed after her abrupt awakening, not entirely certain what disturbed her from heavy slumber. Through contented eyes, she peered around the room, soaking in the beams cast in long rectangles. She laughed to herself as she eyed the empty bottle of champagne on the nightstand. “Oh Goddess…Claude…” she mumbled, burying her face in the pillows once again. She inhaled deeply…The pillows loomed with Claude’s sweet scent…the heavily spun cotton sheets smelled like Claude… _Byleth_ smelled like Claude.

She laid there, her bare back exposed to the light chill in the room and her skin radiating in a pale pink flush. She was either hungover, horny or both. Byleth had never taken a _lover_ before but after the worshipping she received the night before, her appetite for Claude had only intensified. It was surreal. He wanted _from_ her, nothing; yet wanted to _give_ her everything. Claude implored her _every_ desire, surrendered _completely_ to her, and gave…and _gave_ …and gave until Byleth _ached_. Claude had no inhibitions and _lots_ of confidence.

As Byleth laid there in a soft mound of blankets and bliss, she took in the beauty around her. It was Claude’s 2500 square foot playground with everything a full-sized home had to offer: The penthouse that kept watch over the town…the next town over, that is. Almyran green and gold brocade curtains were pulled back on scarlet spun cords on every window. The floors were marble and covered in brilliant, deep purple, hand-woven runners. It dripped in decadence and Byleth was reveling in her role as queen of Claude’s castle. How had he acquired this place? How long had he been hiding it? Was it _even_ his? Who the hell cared?! It was quiet, this bed was heavenly, and Claude was _so_ gorgeous.

The French doors opened with a squeak, the morning air rushing in behind it. “Well, well…look at you.” Claude said, admiring his beloved prize. Byleth laughed, rolling over, exposing her bare breasts. She drug her hands down her face before outstretching her arms to Claude’s half-naked form. She put her arms around him, as he slid his way over her body; his smooth, bare chest resting against hers. His kiss was the _only_ thing she needed.

“Good morning.” She smiled, letting her fingers wade through feathery-soft, dark hair. Claude’s smile was contagious.

“You slept well.” He said, leaning his forehead against hers as he rested on his forearms.

“I slept _wonderfully_.” She said, unable to wipe the tender smile from her face.

“I’m so glad. You look good in the morning. Look at you…” Claude repeated. “…lying here in my bed, completely naked and so relaxed.” He kissed her again, Byleth drinking in more of Claude’s heavenly earthen and honeyed scent.

“Yeah but look at you…on me.” She said, her lips leaving a trail along his jawline. An infectious smile still adorned Claude’s face. “Should I get up?” she asked. Byleth was slave to a routine. At the monastery, it was typically out of bed at 5AM even if Dimitri had her up the night before, dispense Dimitri’s meds, gather any bedding or dirty clothes and send them to the laundry, get herself ready for the day, make tea, drink it on the way to her office, meet Seteth promptly at 7:30AM, receive any orders, complete an armory inventory, check on Dimitri on her way to see the cathedral counselor, lead seminar if she were scheduled, meet students for individual coaching sessions, check on Dimitri, lead group instruction, retreat to her office for paperwork, and end her day with whatever landmine Dimitri had planted.

“You don’t _have_ to do anything. You can lay right there all day if you want.” Claude assured her, kissing her neck. Byleth wasn’t used to _not_ doing anything. “The only thing I’m going to make you do is come look at the view.” Claude said, pushing himself up and reaching over into the floor, retrieving the emerald hued, silk robe lying in the floor. He shook it out and coaxed Byleth toward him. She crawled out of her warm nest, feeling dizzy as she rose to her feet. “It’s still a little damp.” He said with a smirk. Byleth turned pink as he wrapped her up. Her robe was saturated with the scent of champagne and indeed, still damp to the touch.

Claude took her hand and led Byleth across the cool marble. He opened up the door only for Byleth to find herself mouth agape at the view before her. “Claude!” she gasped, taking in the sights and stepping barefoot onto the cool stone floor of the wrap around balcony. Rolling hills and mountains in the distance, the town below, and the billowy clouds of morning embraced the landscape. Byleth leaned into Claude’s shoulder, feeling his skin react to the cool morning air. He walked her out further onto balcony. Claude pushed Byleth toward the ledge, hugging his arms around her shoulders, and leaning into her back. Wispy, lose strands of his hair played against her neck as she felt the warmth of his cheek against hers.

“What do you think?” he asked, softly, the birds calling in the distance. Byleth shook her head.

“It’s beautiful…just…beautiful. Perfect in fact.” She answered, rubbing her hands over his arms. The view up here was clear and free from all the worries of the world below.

“That’s all I wanted you to see. This is your view for the next few days.” He promised her, kissing Byleth’s temple. “Now, can I interest you in breakfast?” Byleth smiled.

“You can.” She said as Claude took her hand and led her back inside. “I’ll get changed.” She said, presuming they were going out for breakfast.

“Okay, but only if you want to.” Claude said, making his way from his bedroom toward the beautiful sunken living room with its impeccable ivory upholstered furniture, fantastic carved cherry coffee table and plum and scarlet accents. Lovely potted plants of various sizes adorned the space, and the throws that hung on the arms of the furniture made this part of the penthouse all the more inviting. There was a massive colocasia which sat in its own pedestal near the windows, tying it all together. 

“You mean…we’re not…leaving for breakfast?” she called to the other room, hoping Claude could hear her.

“Only if you want to.” Claude answered again. Byleth smiled and shed her robe to the floor to get changed into something that smelled less like alcohol and more like Claude. “I have everything right here to make you breakfast. You want tea or mimosas?” He called to her. Byleth smiled even more, blushing and covering her face. She had _never_ been pampered like this and she had only been with Claude for just under twelve hours.

"Tea is great." she answered, reaching for Claude's shirt in the floor.


	9. Straight Up, Now Tell Me

Lysithea has been eavesdropping on Ingrid and Dorothea’s conversation from the back table in the library. Unofficially, and mostly in her mind, she referred to Ingrid and Dorothea as the trash twins. Her derogatory terms were far less creative after that one. There was, the Blue Lion Sluts and her favorite, the fucking whores of the Blue Lion House…but the last one was a mouthful, so she typically stuck with trash twins. She was shocked by their conversation. Ingrid had received her first contraceptive shot from Mercedes… _a contraceptive shot._ Which, in Lysithea’s mind, was basically admitting that you were fucking your boyfriend…a lot. It got worse, Ingrid learned about the shot from Dorothea, queen of the sluts, who had a boyfriend she was fucking! She even had her first shot on February 20, Felix’s birthday!! Such. A. Whore. It wasn’t moisturizer!! It was _never_ moisturizer! Dorothea’s skin had been beautiful for months because _she_ was getting this shot and that was the side effect. Dorothea was doing this long before anyone even realized that she was in a legitimately committed relationship with Felix. She had played her cards very well and now she had passed the wisdom to Ingrid. Lysithea was left out completely. Once again, she felt small, insignificant and she was about to go ballistic. Neither Ingrid or Dorothea expected a complete meltdown in the library today….

“UUUGGGHHHAAAGGHHH!!” Lysithea screamed, sending her book and papers across the room. Ingrid and Dorothea jumped up, scared shitless by her actions. “I CAN’T DEAL WITH THIS ANYMORE!” she screamed, clearing her table of anything else left and reaching for anything else in arms reach. “I CAN’T TAKE IT! IT’S NOT FAIR! I AM…SO…FUCKING…SICK OF THIS! YOU TWO ARE SUCH FUCKING SLUTS AND I…I…I AM SO FUCKING JEALOUS THAT IT MAKES ME SIIIIIIICK!!” Lysithea screamed, finding a dictionary and sending it across the library also. Dorothea and Ingrid watched in horror. Thank the Goddess no one else was around. Lysithea started to cry. Ingrid exchanged nervous glances with Dorothea. After all, this was the same mage who knocked Dorothea in the face. Lysithea slumped down into the floor and sobbed. “It’s not fair…” she whined, attempting to dry her eyes.

"Craaaaazy..." Ingrid lipped.

“Wh…what’s not fair…Lysithea?” Dorothea asked tentatively, scared to death that she may get her lights punched out or get assaulted with the history of the Knights of Seiros.

“Everything!!” she cried. Ingrid put her hands up, not knowing what to do next and too nervous to make any rash moves.

“What do you mean?” Dorothea pressed her.

“I just…what did…what did you two do…to get _everything?_ ” Lysithea got out before sobbing nearly uncontrollably. Ingrid searched for anything to hand over, coming up empty handed.

“Hey, what are you talking about? C’mon. you need to pull yourself together a little. We can’t follow what you’re saying.” Ingrid said as calmly as she could, deciding to trust her instinct that she and Dorothea wouldn't be knocked unconscious only to be found by Linhardt at Goddess only knew when. Lysithea sniffed and sobbed, her tears running off her face. She tried to regain some composure as Ingrid gingerly got into the floor beside her, quickly motioning Dorothea to join her. Lysithea shamelessly wiped her nose on the back of her hand. She shook her head defeatedly.

“You two just…you have _everything_. Everybody takes you seriously. You…you get to be friends with everyone I want to be friends with.” Lysithea whined. “You…have…you have these _mature_ , invested, relationships…and…and I don’t have any of that…” Lysithea sobbed. Before Dorothea or Ingrid could react, Lysithea went on. “…Lorenz and I have been talking but he pays no attention to me! It drives me crazy! And…and I hang out with Marianne and Bernadetta and Linhardt!! They…they’re so…they just don’t want what I want anymore! And your House! You’re both in a talented House! I worked my ass off and I _still_ didn’t get recognized! I’m so sick of being invisible and unimportant to everyone!”

“Here.” Dorothea said, reaching her arms out to Lysithea who was clearly overwhelmed by…everything. “You _are_ important. You are a talented mage. You are an asset to your House. And Hubert? Hubert has a tremendous amount of respect for you as a mage.” Dorothea tried to soothe her.

“Then why didn’t I get recruited? Why am I stuck where I am?” she wept. Lysithea was still sore about being overlooked during the recruitment period.

“Because it’s where you need to be! Without you, your House would have an aching gap to fill.” Ingrid chimed in. “It’s not that the other Houses didn’t want you. And Lysithea, you need to work on your attitude. You can’t fly off the handle the way you do. You don’t keep your emotions in check.”

“I’m not emotional all the time…” Lysithea argued, wiping tears from her cheeks.

“You just launched, like, four books across this library. You’ve punched me in the face over not getting your way. I’d say those count as not being the best at dealing with yourself.” Dorothea said.

“I just…I want to be taken seriously. I want friends who aren’t…who aren’t so timid and babified. I want a _real_ relationship! Not…whatever the fuck it is I have with Lorenz! And you two have _all_ of those things. I…want to be you _so_ badly.” Lysithea unloaded everything on her mind. She didn’t secretly hate Dorothea or Ingrid. She didn’t even think they were slutty…she only wanted everything that she believed she didn’t have.

“Lysithea, first…there’s nothing wrong with the friends you hang out with. Don’t abandon them or shun them away just because they aren’t _exactly_ where you are. They’re your friends for a reason and they’ll support you when no one else will. And Dorothea’s right, you have to keep your reactions to things in check. You aren’t a bad person at all. In fact, you can be pretty great to be around but nobody gets to see that because you’re either trying to outdo someone else or just trying too fucking hard.” Ingrid said.

“Yeah, and what’s this with Lorenz?” Dorothea asked. Lysithea dried her eyes and began to calm herself.

“He just…I don’t know. He doesn’t pay any attention to me and then I get mad and then he pays even _less_ attention to me. And the thing is, it’s not his fault because _I’m_ the one who has been tentative about getting too close! Damn it! See!? I’m such a _baby!”_ Lysithea pouted.

“No you’re not. You’re just figuring it out. Do you _really_ think that Felix and I were civil with each other when we first got together? We weren’t! Lysithea, my first words to him were fuck you. Okay?” Dorothea laughed, causing Lysithea to smile. “The entire relationship process is _everybody_ learning together. You have to have honest talks with Lorenz because if you can’t be honest with each other, you have nothing.” Dorothea said.

“She’s right. You have to be totally transparent with each other. Sylvain and I have known each other for a long time but that didn’t mean we knew each other as a boyfriend or girlfriend.” Ingrid shook her head. “Believe me, I hadn’t ever planned on sleeping with my best friend and I most _definitely_ never planned on falling in love with him.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Ingrid shot her eyes up to Dorothea and Lysithea. That was the first time she’d ever said _that_ out loud.

“You…what?” Dorothea asked, having not expected to hear what just escaped Ingrid's lips. Lysithea gasped.

“You _love_ him?”

“Oh shit…” Ingrid whispered. “I’m…yeah…I…am…totally in love with him…” Suddenly, Ingrid wasn't the only one in the room who needed to have an honest conversation.

* * *

Felix had been unusually quiet for most of the day. Even as he laid in bed, book in hand, he was quiet…until he launched it across the room. It startled Dorothea, not because he threw it, but because this was a reoccurring theme in her day. She learned that when someone launched a book across the room, something major was about to happen. “Felix…?” she began, not needing to finish her sentence. He sighed.

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Okay.” she said calmly.

“You. Me. You and Me.” He answered vaguely. “There are some thing things we need to talk about.” He said seriously. Dorothea looked up from her book.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, sensing Felix’s serious tone.

“Yeah, yeah…everything’s fine. I just…I _really_ need you to pretend like you’re reading or something because I can’t look at you.” Felix said. Not only did book launching indicate something big was coming; but when Felix couldn't look Dorothea in the face, he was about to confess something.

“Fine.” She said, rather irritated and not wanting to deal with two crises in a day. She picked up her book again and opened it to a random page.

“Thanks.” He sighed. “What is it…you love about me?” he asked. Dorothea didn’t answer right away as she thought about his question.

“I love that you feel safe. When I’m with you, I know I’m safe to be myself, safe physically…emotionally. I love that you’re so confident in everything you do. Even if you aren’t _actually_ sure of something, you make it seem like you are. I love that you don’t care what anyone else says about you. That takes a lot of guts to be you. I love that you’re sincere. For better or worse, you are _always_ sincere.”

“Hmm. Okay. You and I have been together for about six months. Why have you stayed with me?” Felix asked. Dorothea thought it was an odd question.

“Because…you and I are good together. Um…you make me happy. You push me to always be better. You hold me to a really high standard. You don’t let me slack in anything. You recognize when I’m struggling and you always know how to make that better. For all those things, I love you.” Felix smiled and nodded, though Dorothea couldn’t see it.

“Dee, we’re…we’re going to have to leave the monastery this year. That time will be here sooner than we think.” Felix said seriously. Dorothea looked up across the room from her ‘reading’. He was right. Graduation would eventually be imminent which meant everyone in the monastery would go their own way. Dorothea could feel her heart race. She suddenly realized where this conversation was going. “I, um…I need you to…are you…” Felix sighed, because he couldn’t find the words. “Do you think…maybe…fuck…” he mumbled the last part. “Well, I want you to think about marriage!” Felix said irritated. “…to me! Like, you and me…married. You marrying _me._ You and I…Husband and Wife…Duke and…and Duchess. I need you to think about it. And if you know right now, that…that I’m not…what you want in a husband then just say so. I wouldn’t blame you because you put up with so much bullshit from me, Dee. Goddess! I’m making you pretend read because I can’t even say all this to you face! Only a dumbass fuck does that! Why the _fuck_ would I even think I have anything you need or that you even want to…” Dorothea chucked her book across the room. May as well go three for three on the book throwing today. She rolled over and took Felix in her arms, pressing her lips into his to shut him up. It worked. She kissed him repeatedly, each one a little deeper and a little longer than the one before. She pulled her lips away, leaving her palm on his cheek.

“I would absolutely be your wife.” She said. He words weren’t what Felix expected, granted he didn’t exactly have an expectation.

“You…you would? You’d be my wife? You don’t have to say that just because it’s what I _want_ you to say.” Felix said, snaking his arms around her.

“You’ve taken my heart…my patience…my virginity…not in that order. “Dorothea smiled. “Take my hand too.”

“Damn it! I don’t…uuuggghhh…” Felix was so pissed at himself. “I don’t want you to think this is my proposal, okay? Because if…if it was…wow is it a shitty one. And I would say fuck no if I were you. Because I…definitely suck at this. Now that I know you would _actually_ marry me…” Felix paused because it all hit him at once. “Shit…you would _actually_ …marry me.” Felix shook his head and pulled Dorothea in against him before rolling her over and pinning her underneath him. “You’re so stupid…” he said, kissing her. “You could do _so_ much better.” He mumbled against her lips. Dorothea laughed and slipped her leg over his, working her hands underneath his shirt. She broke their kiss long enough to pull Felix’s shirt over his head. She let her warm hands, caress his shoulders, sinking her lips into his again.

“Mmmm...how about you give me a preview?” she asked between their kisses, pushing Felix’s hips into her.

“Of?” Felix asked, pushing Dorothea’s shirt up around her armpits.

“Our wedding night…” she said before tangling her tongue with his.

* * *

Edelgard watched carefully as Linhardt and Caspar engaged in a practice spar. For the past month, she had been avoiding ‘the talk’ with both Hubert and Petra. What she had been doing, was far more dangerous: she had been telling each of them what they wanted to hear. Edelgard was in a precarious and risky position because at any given minute this teeter totter she was on could topple. Edelgard had successfully convinced Hubert that she wasn’t seeing someone else and she had convinced Petra that she, ‘just needed more time’. For whatever reason, Petra bought it. Maybe it was because Petra was more into Edelgard than she had originally intended on being. Whatever the case, Edelgard’s convoluted plan had worked...until it started to make her a little crazy.

She watched the mock battle before her in disgust, making notes. “No! No, no, no…that’s all wrong! Do it again!” she not-so-subtly snapped. Caspar and Linhardt stopped and re-positioned themselves, beginning the practice drill once more. Caspar made the first move, Edelgard studying his form. She observed Linhardt, stoic and elegant in his movements. Of all the mages, his form was most fluid and easy on the eyes, like a dancer. They completed their pass and looked to Edelgard for her comments. “Again!” She called. The two sighed and took their places once again, preparing to repeat the pass made at one another. Caspar altered his form, choosing an overhead attack rather than a lateral. Once again, they looked to Edelgard for her approval. “Again!” She hissed. Both Caspar and Linhardt sunk in their shoulders, taking their places again. Linhardt went through his ritual movements and began to cast a spell but stopped, looking to Edelgard.

“Do you have any suggestions?” Edelgard sighed, feeling restless and impatient.

“Linhardt, your spell casting is as weak as…” Edelgard was interrupted. 

“Edelgard, Petra needs to speak with you. She’s in your classroom.” Ignatz interrupted as he passed through the courtyard, slinging his bow gear over his shoulder. Edelgard rolled her eyes.

“Thank you. Be right there. Alright. Keep practicing. I’ll be back.” Edelgard threw her papers down and took off. She stomped toward the classroom, not truly caring what or how long Linhardt and Caspar worked just as long as they worked on something. Once inside, sure enough, there was Petra, standing alongside the wall as if she had planned to lure Edelgard away from her session. “ _What!?_ ” she spat at Petra.

“Well, I’m quite glad to see you too.” Petra said, sarcastically seeing as Edelgard just popped off.

“I’m sorry! I’m running drill, Petra! What do you want?”

“That’s not drill. It’s just Linhardt and Caspar. They are only doing their daily passes. Leave them be. Come with me. I want you to join me in town, I have some errands to run. Edelgard was beyond perturbed. In fact, she was almost angry.

“You…you want me to _go into town_!? I can’t go into town! I have a house to run, Petra! _You_ have training to do. I…I have _things_ to do today!!” Edelgard didn’t mean to completely overreact. The stress of balancing two half-assed relationships was starting to crack her. It was showing in the way she bit, not only Petra, but everyone else’s heads off. She had already fought with Hubert that morning, though that wasn’t entirely unusual. She screamed at Ferdinand about taking the last of the ‘good’ tea and even blew up at Mercedes over…drinking the tea that Ferdinand has so horribly taken. Clearly, Edelgard wasn’t coping well. She couldn’t be entirely blamed, however. At some level, she was genuinely conflicted over her feelings toward Petra and Hubert. Her history with Hubert outweighed her desire to pursue more with Petra. He intense, emotional response to Petra, outweighed her desire to stay with Hubert.

“I’ve done my training. I only wish to spend time with you. You act like you only avoid me.” Petra said innocently.

“I’m not…I’m not avoiding you! I’m trying to…” Edelgard had a hard time finishing her sentence because in reality…she was kind of trying to avoid Petra. If she went into town, Petra would want to hold her hand. Edelgard wasn’t ready to make things public. And, if Hubert saw her with Petra…shit…shit, shit shit…Edelgard hadn’t expected Petra to become so needy. “I’m trying to…keep things in balance…” Edelgard said, unconvincingly.

“You’ve hardly been with me all week.” Petra complained. She was unknowingly reverting to some of the same behaviors that ultimately separated she and Shamir. When Petra decided she _really_ liked something, she had a tendency to let it consume her. No matter how much she told herself she had changed and grown out of it, old habits died hard.

“I’ll see you soon, I promise. Let me finish my sessions this afternoon. How about tonight. I’ll come by your dorm at say…” Petra cut Edelgard off.

“You will join me for dinner. We will go out. It will be nice.” Petra insisted. Shiiiiit. That meant going into public…together…which they hadn’t done. That was precisely why Edelgard had hidden Petra from Hubert so well. It didn’t matter if she went into public with Hubert because everyone around her expected that…except Petra, of course.

“Um…okay…yeah.” Edelgard said absently. “What time?” she asked, hoping that whatever time Petra would pick, Edelgard could magically come up with some ridiculous reason to see Petra _later_.

“You’ll meet me at my dorm at 5:30.” She answered. Edelgard felt herself panic. That time was when _the most_ people would be out and about. She was already going to have to make it up to Hubert for fighting with him, but she had to follow-through with Petra or she would have two pissed off partners.

“Fine. I’ll see you then.” Edelgard answered. She started to walk away only to feel Petra’s hand on her shoulder, spinning her around. Edelgard couldn’t react. Petra’s lips met hers, causing Edelgard to panic. What if someone _saw_ that!? Her cover would be completely blown! She quickly pulled away from her. “I have to go…but I’ll make it up to you.” Edelgard said before scurrying away. She couldn’t let this moment go any further than it already had.

* * *

“ _Where_ have you been!?” Shamir insisted as she threw a re-threaded bow at Claude. “I’ve been worried about you! You just take off for four days without telling anyone? What the hell!?”

“Sshhh…” Claude cautioned her, sitting the bow aside and putting his hands on Shamir’s shoulders to lead her toward the open door of the wyvern enclosure. “Do you have time for a drink?” He asked.

“For you? Yeah. What’s going on?”

“C’mon. Come inside.” Claude said, grabbing Shamir’s hand. “I’ve got to check on the eggs anyway.” He looked around the enclosure, ensuring Seteth wasn’t around.

“Eggs?” Shamir half-yelled. The few wyverns that weren’t grazing in the fields were rowdy this afternoon, shrieking and squawking happily.

“Yeah! My wyvern laid three eggs. Come look!” Claude said, a bottle and two glasses in his hand.

“Why do you have vodka in here?” Shamir asked.

“Seteth and I drink together. He’s a great guy and an even better drinking buddy. See!? Look!” Claude beamed, pointing to his wyvern’s three eggs. Shamir gasped.

“Oh shit! Look at that!” She said, seeing as the eggs were under heat so that Claude’s wyvern could be outside.

“Sit down. They will hatch soon. Just two or three more weeks. Seteth and I are very excited.” He said, pouring Shamir a half glass of straight vodka. He handed it over and poured his own glass.

“Seriously? It’s 4:00 in the afternoon, Claude! Why do I need this much vodka?” She teased. He studied Shamir’s expression.

“I have a feeling I’ll be replacing this bottle by the time you and I are done here.” He admitted, sitting the bottle aside and examining his own glass. Claude took a deep breath and looked at Shamir, fidgeting nervously on the stool near his wyvern’s stall.

“What’s with you?” Shamir asked. Claude swirled the vodka around in his glass and laughed uneasily, alternating his gaze between Shamir and his glass. Claude was rarely nervous about anything so his demeanor was concerning.

“Shamir. You and I know each other well, wouldn’t you say? You and I are friends…good friends. Yeah?” Claude asked.

“Yes and yes.” She answered. Claude took a deep breath and focused his attention out the open door, running his tongue nervously over his teeth. “Cheers.” He said, holding up his glass to Shamir’s with a shaky hand. Shamir took notice which only worried her further.

“Claude, you’re really weirding me out right now. What’s going on?” she asked, clinking her glass into his. Claude took a long drink, nearly emptying his glass in one gulp. He swallowed the clear liquid and felt it burn down his throat, wincing slightly as it hit his stomach. He blinked several times and watched Shamir take a reasonable sip.

“I slept with someone this weekend.” Claude stated, his leg shaking.

“Okay?” Shamir said, shrugging it off. Her eyes widened. “Oh! Was it that hot guy you that hit on you that one time you went out with Catherine and I?” Claude laughed.

“No…no, it…it definitely wasn’t him.” Even as restless as he was, Claude still managed to flash his intoxicating smile. Shamir waited, taking another reasonable sip of vodka. Claude leaned in and shot big green eyes at Shamir. “Byleth…I slept with Byleth. And…it was _wonderful_ and _passionate_ and _very, very_ hot and _completely_ forbidden.” Claude leaned back and exhaled heavily. Now that he had said it out loud, he felt better. If you were going to sleep with someone else’s girlfriend and you needed to tell someone; Shamir was the pick. She, unlike most other people, wouldn’t strongly react. Perhaps she didn’t strongly react because it was Claude and she _always_ had Claude’s back.

“You slept with the professor? Otherwise known as, Dimitri’s _girlfriend_?” Shamir stated.

“Shamir, I _swear_ to you. This is not a hit and run.”

“It’s… _not_? Shamir asked. “This wasn’t just…you taking advantage of a situation to get some from a woman who _desperately_ needed to get some? Claude, please. I know you.”

“Byleth is a good woman who has been _insanely_ neglected physically and emotionally.” Claude said, pouring more vodka.

“Exactly! And you’re exploiting that.” Shamir said, taking another drink.

“I’m not exploiting anything. Shamir, I’ve left everything up to her. I put the offer on the table and left it alllll for her to take…. or not.” Claude said.

“Funny, how you chose the most _vulnerable_ time to…so freely offer it.” That was the thing about Shamir. She was a pro at calling Claude on his bullshit, or as others may call it, his great tactical mind. He laughed.

“Okay, yeah you got me there…I _might_ have waited for the best time…to play Dimitri. But Shamir…she is…so hot…so…delicious…so damn beautiful. You should have seen her lying there like the goddess she is in my penthouse and…” that grabbed Shamir’s attention.

“Whoa, whoa…stop…what do you mean _my_ penthouse!?”

“I have a penthouse in the next town over. I’ve had it for a couple years. You should _really_ come see it sometime. Hell, you and Catherine are welcome to stay.” Claude raised his eyebrows at her and refilled her glass. Turns out Shamir was more shocked by Claude’s adventures in real estate than she was his sleeping with the professor.

“Would you listen to you? And just how ‘active’ is this penthouse of yours?” Shamir asked, taking a much longer drink. Claude laughed again.

“It’s not like that at all. I only want Byleth. I want her in my arms. And, I get to have ‘er all to myself next week for five days. Five full days of _worshipping_ her the way a _real_ man should.” Claude said.

"And when did you stop referring to her as Teach?" Shamir asked. There was that gorgeous-ass smile again.

"After I came in her mouth."

"Shit, Claude...whew..." Shamir nodded. "...you were right...we need more vodka..." At no point did Claude tell Shamir to keep quiet with this information. He didn’t have to tell her. A good strategist knew who he could trust.

* * *

Though Dimitri didn’t openly discuss it, he was raised with the teachings of the Church of Seiros. He wouldn’t call himself a devout follower but he believed the Church’s message. It was such a pleasant surprise to the cathedral clergyman to see Dimitri at the alter for prayer and daily devotion. He hadn’t been for months. Maybe it was the sweet kiss of summer that was finally starting to work on him. Dimitri had experienced a good week. A _really_ good week. He had been out of bed four times. He managed to have dinner in the dining hall, he spent time at the training grounds and he even made time to have tea with Ferdinand. Mercedes doted and cooed over Dimitri at his most recent checkup. She engaged him in one of the first truly meaningful conversations in months while she trimmed up his very unkempt blonde layers. He wasn’t quite ready for a step-down in medication and he was in no way over his afflictions. But, his attitude had most certainly improved. His motivation had improved. His skin looked a little brighter, his vitals were up and he was _finally_ taking regular showers. As he sat here on his knees before the cathedral alter, he smiled, though reserved, at the clergyman.

Byleth had been trailing after him and his activities all week, ensuring that he didn’t overdo it. His sudden activity could lead to an unexpected breakdown later. He had gone through the week without night terrors or anxiety attacks. Byleth, of course, joined Dimitri in the cathedral. As she knelt beside him at the altar, the clergyman before her, text in hand, she found her mind…distracted.

“It’s good to see you Dimitri. I’d ask if you’ve been well, but I already know you have not. Please, allow me to bless you.” The clergyman said, dipping his hands in the blessed waters before wiping his fingers over Dimitri’s forehead. Byleth watched, not having a particular reaction, just observing how calm Dimitri appeared as the wet streak adorned his forehead. “Peace be with you, son of Seiros.” He blessed Dimitri before opening his manuscript. Byleth didn’t need to be blessed. Being blessed by Claude’s hot breath, his eager tongue and his fine body was the only redemption she needed. Her mind wandered as she watched the clergyman prepare devotion with Dimitri. “Recite with me…” The clergyman stated. It evoked a soft smile from Dimitri because it felt like ages since he recited his devotion before the Goddess. 

Had anyone else seen this moment, they would have been heartbroken over Dimitri’s tender actions, so pure, so innocent…as if he were in the process of being reborn. Byleth was surprisingly despondent, though smiling with genuine fondness over Dimitri’s interaction with the clergyman. Aside from that, she didn’t much engage, and she hardly listened, instead watching Dimitri’s freshly shaped, blonde layers fall in clumps around his face. She could see the dark blonde in the back and the lighter blonde that framed his jaw now that his hair was finally clean. Dimitri leaned back on his knees, placing a hand over Byleth’s. Her eyes shot down to his warm palm over hers. His hands hadn’t felt that warm in…she couldn’t remember when. As she stared at his fingers, slowly moving over hers, all she could think of were Claude’s hands. Ooooh Goddess…Claude’s hands…they had been _all_ over her. She had licked herself off his fingers, indulged in the way he fondled her breasts, and experienced nothing but content at how he drug his palm down her back, rubbing her shoulders until she slept. Byleth suddenly snapped to because the clergyman had asked something.

“I’m…” she cleared her throat. “I’m sorry…what did you say?” She asked the clergyman.

“Do you have any confessions, professor?” He repeated. Byleth glanced down at Dimitri’s hand over hers and adjusted her focus to his bowed head. Confessions. Did she have any confessions? This probably wasn’t the best time to confess the anger that had consumed her. It wasn’t an ideal time to admit to all the tears she had cried over Dimitri’s worn-down state. The clergyman likely didn’t want to hear her confess about how bitter and hurt she felt or how Dimitri had said some horrible depression-induced things to her. That’s what the church counselor was for. And right now? Right now, _definitely_ wasn’t the time to seek repentance for all pre-marital sex she had been having…. with Dimitri…well over ten months ago. That was practically self-erasing at this point. Sure, she could confess that she _might_ have an attraction to another man…but she was on her knees in a cathedral before a clergyman. She could have been on her knees in a penthouse before Claude. Byleth smiled, almost pitifully, and focused her attention to the clergyman. She wasn’t the first to do it…and she wouldn’t be the last…

“No, sir. I have none.” She answered, bowing her head. The clergyman nodded.

“Do you have any confessions, Dimitri?” Dimitri rose his eyes from the floor.

“I do, sir. I confess I have been a burden to my friends and to my beloved. I continue to be a burden because I am not yet well. I ask for forgiveness for my slothful behavior. I pray for the will to get better.”

“The Goddess hears your repentance, Dimitri. You are absolved.” The clergyman said. Dimitri and the clergyman continued their discussion but Byleth was stuck on Dimitri’s words. He may have called her beloved…but Claude called her baby.


	10. Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore

There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It was one of those perfect summer mornings where it wasn’t too hot, and the breeze was just right. The birds chirped and chattered and the horses grazing in the fields was picturesque. Garreg Mach was buzzing. Everything was as it should be…until an alarm blared from the bellower of the monastery. Anyone capable of healing was ordered immediately to the infirmary. That was _not_ the message anyone wanted to hear so early in the day. There was so much that Mercedes could handle on her own…this was not one of them. The situation was critical. Linhardt, Manuela, Marianne, Lysithea and Mercedes were working quickly and the adrenaline was high. Ferdinand and Lorenz, also present, were both very nervous.

It began as a routine training exercise. That’s why these things were called accidents. Sylvain laid on the table in the infirmary. He had lost a _lot_ of blood. He was hit in the shoulder with a live short spear. It was a direct hit and the extent of the damage to his bone and ligaments were unknown. Mercedes was unbelievable at remaining calm during situations like these. Healers had to remain calm, it was in their training. But, Mercedes was an exception.

“Sylvain? Sylvain, if you can hear me I need you to open your eyes.” Mercedes coached. “Sylvain.”

“C’mon….c’mon, Sylvain….open your eyes…open your eyes…”Lysithea hoped, under her breath. Mercedes watched him carefully.

“He’s not unconscious…his ankles are warm.” Linhardt assured Mercedes. “There’s no swelling.” Sylvain’s skin, however, was ghostly pale.

“There’s a pulse…” Manuela said, squeezing Sylvain’s wrist to check for his pulse. “…it’s slow but he has one."

“Sylvain?” Mercedes repeated, putting her hands on his cheeks. “He’s warm…just not responding…is he still bleeding?”

“Yes, we have to heal the spots again. There seems to be a lot of damage. There’s at least one ligament tear, the muscle is torn and it’s likely the collar bone is broken. He has four visible lacerations and is bleeding from all of them. The cut at the collar bone is the worst.” Lysithea said, attempting to heal one of the gashes. She and Marianne had cast spell after spell in attempt to slow the bleeding. They were prepared to cast another round when a horrible gag escaped Sylvain’s throat. He half coughed; half threw up.

“Get him to his side! On his side! Steady the collar bone!” Manuela instructed. There were two dangers, one being that if Sylvain threw up any blood, it meant there was more internal bleeding no one was aware of. The other, was him choking if he wasn’t moved to his side.

“Lwt's go!” Linhardt instructed ready to make the move. Marianne and Lysithea looked to him for guidance. “Hold the collar bone, move now!” he said as they made the turn. Sylvain tried to scream at the intense pain but threw up more instead. There was blood present in streaks all over his back from the wounds. Fortunately, he had thrown up no blood. His eyes were certainly open now. Mercedes grabbed a hot cloth from the nearby sink full of water to clean Sylvain up.

“We _must_ get the bleeding stopped. He’s losing more.” Mercedes cautioned. “The bone and the ligaments will be easy to repair.”

“Let’s move him to his back again, and on three all of us need to cast heal at once on the lacerations. That should slow the bleeding if not totally stop it.” Lysithea said. Sylvain let out another yelp as he was once again, moved to his back. Linhardt and Mercedes moved to the spots near Lysithea and Marianne, prepared to brace for the heal.

“On three…we have to hit this at once. Sylvain, if you can hear me…this isn’t going to be pleasant…”

“Mmmer….ce…dsss…” Sylvain choked out. Mercedes hurried above Sylvain’s head, putting her hands on top his head. He was struggling. “I’m…nnnnt….gnna….make…not gon….”

“Ssshhh…Sylvain…you’re going to make it. We have to heal quickly.” She reassured him. Mercedes motioned Manuela into her spot. “Tell….her….ttttlll…’rrr.” he wasn’t coherent and Sylvain’s color was worsening.

“Go! Go! Do it now! His eyes are rolling back!! He's about to pass out!” Mercedes insisted.

“Now! On three!” Lysithea said. “One…two….GO!” She yelled. Sylvain let out a painful cry as the spell ripped through him.

* * *

By midmorning, Sylvain was stable and resting. Lysithea paced around, not sure of where to go or what she should do next. She was completely shaken by her own nerves. “You saved him. You know, that right? Had it now been for you…Sylvain may have not made it. You’re the reason.” Ingrid said, putting an arm around Lysithea.

“Everybody did their part.” Lysithea said. “Everyone was… _amazing_ in theretoday.” Ingrid dried her eyes.

“Yeah, but you…Thank you…” Ingrid said, putting her arms around Lysithea tighter.

“You don’t have to thank me. I was only doing the best I could.” Lysithea said. The truth was, no one had _actually_ told Ingrid how close to death Sylvain had been. She wasn’t called in until he was stable. He had been asleep for over an hour and Ingrid had been de-briefed by Linhardt, Manuela and Marianne.

“I…I think you need to…stay with him.”

“Of course. I won’t leave him.” Ingrid assured her. Lysithea wiped her eyes. “You...you were meant for him.” she shook her head. "You were _so_ calm when you saw him today. And...and when you kissed him...and told him you loved him..." Lysithea couldn't fight it. "...you _knew_ he could hear you, even though he wouldn't respond to any of us. When people say...they wanna' know what love is...they just need to watch you with Sylvain because you two have it right." Lysithea smiled. "I just wanted you to know. I think I'm going to take off now. Lorenz made some tea and I could really use it.” Lysithea hugged Ingrid once more.

"Thanks again for everything you did today." Ingrid assured her. She let Lysithea go and opened the door to the infirmary.

“Ingrid.” Mercedes called to her before she could slip into the back room to be with Sylvain. Ingrid outstretched her arms. Mercedes hugged her tightly.

“Mercedes...” Ingrid said softly. "You're so amazing...thank you for everything today. I know I just keep repeating myself." Ingrid wiped her eyes and smiled. 

“Ingrid…” Mercedes’ began as her breath shuddered. She returned Ingrid's smile. “i need you to know what happened. There was…a period today…when…when we weren’t sure…Sylvain would make it…and…he…” Mercedes began to choke up. “…he said…that…if he didn’t make it…to…to tell you that he loved you and…and that you were the greatest thing that’s ever happened to him in…his life.” Mercedes didn’t try to fight her tears, instead, burying her face in her hands. Ingrid covered her mouth and closed her eyes. She hugged Mercedes even tighter. They didn’t need any words in this moment, just each other.

She released Ingrid’s shoulders and wiped her tear-streaked face. “Oh…I need to…pull myself together.” She said, clearing her throat and sniffing. “Sylvain…he’s going to be okay. He'll be in a lot of pain and he won't immediately bounce back.” Mercedes cleared her throat again. “I'm going to do something that...I'm not supposed to do...but it's the right thing to do. You’re in charge of his medications. I didn't try to get him to sign permission." Ingrid stared intently at Mercedes. This situation was all too familiar. The difference? Sylvain’s injury could have killed him on the spot, Dimitri’s injury would make for a slow death. Ingrid shook her head. “When he wakes up, he will be in some intense pain. That’s what this pill is for.” Mercedes said, shoving the bottle toward Ingrid. “This…” she held up a clear bottle of pills. “…is to prevent infection. Give it to him every twelve hours. He may break out in a rash. If he does, tell me.” Mercedes wrote some notes on her clipboard. “And this one…this is as needed for swelling. He can have it every six hours if you think the swelling is getting out of control.” Mercedes sighed and put her hand on her forehead. “He needs to stay here for at least three days. He may have numbness in that shoulder for a long time but it’s too soon to tell.” Both Mercedes and Ingrid were quiet for a moment. Mercedes smiled. “Ingrid? You and Sylvain spend too much time in this infirmary.” It made Ingrid laugh.

“Goddess only knows we do. Can I stay with him tonight?” Ingrid questioned.

“Of course. Manuela will be taking over for me later. Please, _please_ tell her if _you_ need anything.” Mercedes looked to the floor. “Ingrid…taking care of you is important. If you don’t…you can’t care for Sylvain.”

Mercedes made a strong statement. She had seen first-hand the toll an imbalance of well-being took on a relationship.

* * *

Ferdinand hadn’t left the infirmary. He sat in the hallway leaning against the wall. He had been sitting there for nearly three hours. Mercedes stepped into the hall, surprised by the sight of him sitting there. “Ferdinand!” she exclaimed.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked. Mercedes was exhausted, mentally and physically. Ferdinand patted the floor beside him. She sunk down beside him. Ferdinand put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer against him.

“How long have you been here?” she asked.

“It doesn’t matter. I didn’t want to you to be alone. It’s been such a hard day and you were just...so wonderful.” Ferdinand said, rubbing her shoulder. Ferdinand truly _was_ the noblest of nobles. There were few men who would wait _all day_ on a woman just to ensure that they weren’t alone after such a taxing day. Mercedes leaned her head back against the wall and sighed, turning toward Ferdinand’s concerned expression. She scooted closer to him, afraid her tired body wouldn’t support her. He smelled so nice, so comfortable, like the hay and oak of the stables.

“Thank you…for staying.” She said weakly and with heavy eyes. Mercedes reached out and pushed Ferdinand's hair behind his ear. 

“You’re welcome.” He said, laying his hand over her knee. She didn't take her eyes off Ferdinand’s fatigued, brown-eyed gaze. She moved her palm to his cheek, leaning forward and pressing her lips into his. Ferdinand's kiss was sweet and right now, Mercedes was aching for more of it. He kissed her deeper as Mercedes let the weight of her body fall into Ferdinand's arm. Feeling the air escape her, Mercedes pulled her lips from his and rested her forehead on Ferdinand's.

“Come stay with me for a while?” She half asked and half stated. Ferdinand nodded against her forehead.

“Yes…yes, absolutely…” he answered.

* * *

It was late and the 2nd floor was so quiet. Ingrid, despite her level of exhaustion was wired and wide awake as she watched Sylvain. He had been so peaceful all day, but Ingrid knew that eventually, the pain medicine would wear off and _that_ would wake him. The pale moonlight filtered through the windows, casting faint blue across the room. There was a light knock on the doorframe.

“You have visitors unless you want me to send them away.” Manuela said, peeking around the door. Ingrid smiled, knowing well who it was. Those weren’t _visitors_.

“Send them in.” she said. Manuela walked away only to be replaced by Dorothea and Felix.

“I’m so sorry it took us so long.” Dorothea said, outstretching her arms to Ingrid.

“They told us in the dining hall that dinner service was over and that we could take the leftovers! I told them, no, we will most certainly _not_ take leftovers; get in the kitchen and make what we ordered! So, there you have it, Daphnel Stew and sweet bun trio.” Felix said. Dorothea rolled her eyes.

“He’s so full of shit…. he gave the head cook 50G and the she asked him what he wanted.” Dorothea said softly, laying everything out on the bench. Ingrid laughed. “How are you doing? Do you want anything else? You want me to run and get you some clothes or anything?” Ingrid already looked pretty comfortable in her House lounge pants and oversized tunic.

“Oh, I took a shower earlier and changed but thanks. I’m good. Really, I am. I was just hungry and it’s been a long day.” Ingrid said, wasting no time in diving into the stew.

“Where was he hit? This shoulder?” Felix asked, seeing as Sylvain’s right shoulder was covered with a towel that had been bandaged.

“Yeah, four lacerations. You can look at it if you want, just lift up the towel on the top edge.” Ingrid said, smashing up the crackers for her stew.

“Shit…to think a short spear did that. Damn, Ingrid. What did the professor have to say about this?” Felix said, looking underneath the towel. Ingrid shrugged.

“She hasn’t been here. No one has seen her today. I guess Alois and Gilbert were frantically looking for her. Dimitri…he had…” Ingrid shook her head. “…I don’t know…some intensely emotional reaction or whatever to the sight of Sylvain getting hit. I guess he freaked the fuck out because of all the PTSD. Ferdinand said Alois had to drag him screaming to his room and give him an intense pill or something to knock him out.” Ingrid explained.

“My Goddess…when it rains it pours. Did the professor have any assigned missions this month? That’s not like her to take off without anyone knowing. I mean with Dimitri the way he is and all.” Dorothea raised her eyebrows.

“Perhaps it was something urgent.” Felix said, replacing the towel and sitting down beside Dorothea. Ingrid nodded.

“Yeah but, the thing is…I don’t remember _seeing_ her yesterday or the day before either. Is that stupid?” Ingrid asked, nearly spilling her next bite of stew.

“No, I couldn’t find her either. But I did see Edelgard in, what appeared to be, a very heated discussion with Hubert and then Petra acted like she was watching it from a distance? It was weird.” Dorothea added.

“What else did I miss today?” Ingrid asked. “I’ve been right here since noon.” Felix smiled bigger than he cared to show but since it was just, he, Dorothea, Ingrid and the unaware Sylvain, he figured it would be okay.

“Oh, you missed something alright…there are three wyvern babies at the enclosure and Catherine couldn’t train with me today because she had to go take care of them.” Felix snickered at the thought.

“Awwwww! I bet they’re so cute. Wait…what the…does Catherine… _know_ anything about wyverns?” Ingrid asked.

“No.” Felix answered. “See, she lost this…bet…so she moved in with Shamir…Shamir coerced her into taking care of these wyvern babies. It’s one big happy… dysfunctional family down there.” Felix said, stretching back in the chair and scratching Dorothea’s shoulder. Ingrid was grateful that Felix and Dorothea had come to visit when they did. It was the first time all day that she thought about something other than what her life would be like had she lost Sylvain that morning.

* * *

Seteth knew _everything_ about wyverns. It was impressive. He knew their behavior, their body language, their vocalizations, and he understood their needs. He could recognize all their color patterns and markings, and most importantly, he knew how to raise them so they wouldn’t grow into anti-social, meat-craving, psychopaths. That part was pretty important because Claude had tasked Shamir with checking on the hatchlings…which meant Catherine got roped into this also. Right now, Shamir was regretting every decision she had ever made in her life that ultimately resulted in her meeting Claude. Because, had she not met Claude, she wouldn’t have three baby wyverns nipping and clawing at her; desperate for her attention. Claude’s wyvern was called an armored metallic ivory which meant that she had metallic looking scales. Her pattern was considered the most desirable among wyverns for their elegant beauty. Her hatchlings were each different: a male metallic armored ivory, a female metallic armored emerald, and a female flat bronze. A flat pattern meant that no metallic sheen was present in the scales. The male metallic armored ivory excited Seteth the most because he could tell the little guy was going to be big, and he would make a fantastic breeder. Those wyvern babies were…. _so cute_.

Shamir sat in the grass, sharpening arrows and watching as Catherine wrestled the bronze wyvern. “Goddess! Hold still! Here…stop. Stoooop! That’s my hair…hey! Stop! Take this…stupid bottle…shit….DON’T shriek! STOP! Stop laughing! Here, EAT!” Catherine fought that scaly girl. When wyverns ‘laughed’ they sounded like overly excited demons about to rip your flesh apart…but they were actually content and happy. “EAT!” Catherine demanded. “Theeeeere you go! See? What a wonderful mixture of pulverized fish guts and…some other smashed shit! Eat it! Eat it all!” Catherine praised her. Seteth smiled.

“Ooh Catherine! You’ve got her eating well! You’re a natural at this!” he praised.

“Yes, Seteth. Caring for twenty pounds of screaming, slobbering, aerial lizard is _exactly_ what I’ve aspired for in my life.” Catherine said sarcastically as the wyvern finished up the bottle, licking her lips. Unfortunately, she got too excited on those last few gulps and spit them up all over Catherine. Seteth laughed.

“Awww, come here.” Seteth reached his arms to the wyvern in Catherine’s lap. She gladly handed her over. “Theeere you go.” Seteth comforted her as she cooed against him. When wyverns were _really_ content they made a low rumble deep in their throats almost like a cat purring. Seteth could make a wyvern purr when most others had no success. “Alright, girls, I’m taking this baby girl back to her stall. She’ll be asleep in no time.” Seteth said, walking away to quite literally, put the bronze wyvern down. Catherine nodded her head approvingly, watching Seteth walk away.

“See? _That’s_ a man, Shamir. The way he takes that wyvern and holds it like it’s his own child. That’s exactly what I need…if I needed a man. I’d hit that, Shamir. I’d put that cock in me if it belonged there.” Shamir laughed.

“Ooooh shit, Catherine. Hey! Speaking of cocks being in places they don’t belong…Claude’s sleeping with the professor.”

“Wh…what!? _What_!? How…when did you learn this!? How long has this been going on!? Who initiated it!? Who else knows about it!?”

“All valid questions. Um, I found out two weeks ago. I’m not sure how long it’s been going on. Who initiated what is debatable and no one else knows so you can’t say anything.” Shamir said.

“Shit! I won’t. Sweet mother of Seiros…so, when you said that Claude is ‘away’ and that we were watching the wyvern babies…” Catherine didn’t finish her thought.

“Yeah…Claude is away…in the next town over in a penthouse, that he told us _nothing_ about, having an erotic long weekend while you and I chase wyverns around. Hey! Hey! _Don’t_ chew on that !!” Shamir scolded the emerald wyvern for getting ahold of her arrows.

“Wow….wow that is…am I…a terrible person for… _not_ being entirely shocked by this?”

“Of course not! I wasn’t shocked by it. It’s _Claude,_ Catherine. He saw an opportunity and he took it. That’s what he does.”

“It’s just…a physical thing, right? You don’t think…she would actually…get _involved_ with Claude…do you?” Catherine questioned. “I mean…that would be a _really_ huge mistake. She’s got too much with Dimitri.” Shamir shrugged.

“She may not have that choice to make. Who knows how Dimitri will react to this information when it’s exposed? I know one thing’s certain. I’m not saying a word about it. I will _not_ get involved.”

“Me too. I’m staying far away from this one.” Catherine said. The two were silent for a moment. “What do you think pushed Byleth to the point that she’d sleep with another man?”

“I think we’re dealing with many factors here. She’s had literally _zero_ help with Dimitri for, like, a year. You and I both know Dimitri’s situation hasn’t been what you’d call easy. She took control of the House and made _all_ the decisions that Dimitri should have been helping to decide. Then, I’m sure there’s the part of her that is exhausted from not having a boyfriend, a partner, for as long as she’s _not_ had one. Emotionally, Byleth has been wrung out.” Shamir said. “And, you have to remember…Claude’s always had this weird thing for her. Maybe he’ll just sleep with her and get it out of his system.”

“Or…the other way around.” Catherine said. Shamir fixed her attention on Catherine. She was right. Before Shamir could make any other comments, her sharpened arrows were snatched up.

“Heeeeey! Hey! Get back here! Catherine! Damn it! Go…. chase after the green one!” Shamir huffed as the armored emerald wyvern baby took off. “Stooooop! Don’t chew on those!!” Shamir again scolded, getting into a tug of war with the ivory wyvern. “Hey! Stop it!”

“I’ll crush them all!” Catherine said, getting up from the ground and hurrying after the wyvern.

“Whooooa, Cat…That’s… _really_ not necessary. Just get the arrows!!” Shamir said, finally winning her arrow back. “Ha!” she said pointing the tip at the defeated wyvern. She was met with a head tilt and a shriek. The ivory wyvern took her arrow again, breaking off the tip and running away, little wings outstretched in excitement. Shamir shook her head. “Damn it, Claude…” she said to no one in particular. “…hope you come pre-maturely all weekend…damn..."


	11. Take Me Over the Edge, Make Me Lose Control

Sweet Mercedes. Her schedule…sucked. Though she never once complained about it, even a little, her schedule was brutal. She reported to the infirmary daily at 6AM and stayed there until 6PM. As if a twelve-hour shift wasn’t trying enough, she did this five and six days a week. On the only day she had off, she spent it studying, playing catch up with all the work she had missed within the House, and cleaning up after the mess she left behind herself during the week. The fact that she had managed to make time to do something that compelled her to seek repentance was nothing short of a miracle.

She clenched her holy relic in grasped hands as she rested her elbows on the prayer alter. Her knees hurt from how tensely she held herself up against the railing of the alter. Mercedes sighed nervously, “Dear Goddess…” she stopped and opened her eyes. She looked to Ferdinand beside her, also knelt in prayer. “Is…is there _really_ anything…we need… to repent…for?” Mercedes questioned, her voice hardly above a whisper. She sat back on her knees. Ferdinand couldn’t take his eyes off her innocent beauty, bathed in the cathedral’s light.

Ferdinand shook his head. “I…I don’t think we…we don’t have anything to be…condemned for…that much.” He said, death-gripping his holy relic. “I mean, it’s…it’s not like we were…you know…um…it was a…one-time thing and…all.” Ferdinand was sweating.

“Oh…it…it was? Really? That’s…I’m sorry…I…I just thought…you know…” Mercedes said, her eyes indicating her visible disappointment.

“No!!” Ferdinand practically shouted. “I mean…” he was sweating more. He lowered his voice again. “…no…no, no…no…I…I don’t want it to be a one-time thing. I want it to be an often time thing. WAIT! No, I…I don’t mean it like… _that_! Ooooh Geez…. Mercedes…okay, let me try again. I thought maybe you would feel more comfortable if it _was_ a one-time thing since neither of us planned on it _being_ a thing and then it was a thing and now here, we are and… you…just… look…so beautiful right now.” Ferdinand exhaled heavily and slumped back on his knees, feeling his entire body shake from nerves. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, fist still clenched. Mercedes smiled. She wanted reach for Ferdinand’s shoulder but, she was in the cathedral, knelt before the Goddess’ alter and already so close to burning in eternal damnation, may as well not chance it.

“May…maybe we could just…say a regular prayer?” Mercedes suggested.

“Yes. Yes, that’s a great idea…just a…nice prayer…together.” Ferdinand agreed. Mercedes shook her head and leaned forward against the alter again, folding her hands around her holy relic. Ferdinand leaned forward to join her, but Mercedes sat back on her knees again.

“I’m not busy today. I’m not busy at all. It’s my day off. You know, in case maybe…you wanted to…”

“Have tea!?” Ferdinand finished her sentence hastily.

“YES! Yes…have…. tea. Yes, definitely. I’d like that so much!” Mercedes nodded her head. Ferdinand smiled in relief.

“Um…should we…have it in…” Mercedes interrupted Ferdinand.

“Your dorm? Yes, yes let’s do it there!” Mercedes’ eyes shot open wider than dinner plates. “I’m sorry! I…I didn’t mean it like _that_ or anything. But I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to…Oh Goddess! I’m so embarrassed!” Mercedes said burying her head in her hands.

“It’s…it’s okay, Mercedes. You don’t have to be embarrassed at all!” Ferdinand reached an arm around her. If his arm was around her, Mercedes figured she may well move in closer to him. She was so content and so relieved with his arm around her. What was a little harmless half-embrace after at the alter after what they had already kind-of, somewhat-accidentally, done? Ferdinand was the sweetest man anyone could ever hope to meet, and Mercedes wanted to sit there before the Goddess and do nothing drink in those big brown, never-have-I-ever eyes.

“You’re so kind, Ferdinand.” Mercedes said dreamily. You want to pray together now?”

“Yes! Let us pray!” He assured her. The Goddess knew the truth. They wanted to get this prayer recited so they could get to ‘tea’.

* * *

There had to be a rule written down about this kind of thing somewhere. Nervous was an understatement. Dorothea had never met her probably-in-six-to-twelve-months-father-in-law. Felix didn’t exactly make it a priority to discuss his father. Rodrigue Fraldarius was: _Fucking. Gorgeous_. Not the regular dad I’d like to fuck…the wealthy kind who just so happened to bring a half case of Fraldarian distilled whiskey with him on his visit. Dorothea didn’t fully understand why Felix couldn’t get along with the guy. There wasn’t anything _wrong_ with Rodrigue. No. Everything about Rodrigue was _right_ which is precisely why there needed to be an explicit rule about _not_ lusting after the eventual grandfather to your children. Dorothea watched as Rodrigue swirled the whiskey in his glass and reviewed the document before him.

“You like whisky, yeah?” Rodrigue asked, glancing across the table at Dorothea.

“I like anything you like, Rodrigue.” Dorothea thought to herself. “I do. Yes.” She answered.

“I realize it’s very early to review this agreement, but I have other matters here at the monastery and…since Felix has never made the effort to introduce you to me…well, here I am. This place has hardly changed since I went through.” He laughed. “Cheers. To my, very beautiful, future daughter-in-law.” Dorothea turned pink and smiled ear to ear.

“Cheers.” She said…you fucking hot piece of…uuuugghhhh… “It’s really…really great to meet you, sir. Felix just doesn’t talk about you at all and…I want to know more about you. And I’m sure, you…want to know more about me.” She said.

“Please. Call me Rodrigue. I am not a man of formality. I do want to know more about you. Why do you want to marry Felix?” he asked.

“He and I are very good together. I love him and not the…superficial kind of love. Not the…I love you because I need you kind of love. The inconvenient kind…the foolish kind. The kind that says…I embrace your flaws, I respect your insecurities, and even on your worst days I still want you in my life.” Dorothea said. Rodrigue nodded.

“That’s commendable. I appreciate your honesty. Now, you were born in Adrestia and you were orphaned as a child?” Rodrigue questioned.

“Yes, and yes.” Dorothea answered.

“I’m need you to write out a statement pledging your allegiance to the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus and renouncing your allegiance to Adrestia.”

“Very well.” Dorothea said, taking the document from Rodrigue and beginning her statement.

“I looked at your academy records. Your statement on your entrance interview indicated that your goal from the academy was to find a man to take care of you financially and emotionally.” Rodrigue said.

“Rodrigue…” Dorothea sighed, knowing that statement would come back to haunt her. “I was seventeen when I wrote that. I was scared and selfish and…I had just gotten here had from an orphanage where I spent my entire life. I had no support system except for Manuela Casagranda. She took interest in me because I could sing. Singing was my only hope for _any_ kind of future. But, that blew up in my face because I got all this attention from older, sleezy, rich men who wanted to take advantage of a vulnerable girl who had nothing. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Manuela. I didn’t know what the _fuck_ I wanted when I wrote that statement. I only knew that _here_ …I had an actual chance of settling down with a noble who could take of me. Security was the _only_ thing on my mind because I’d never had any…in my life.” Dorothea paused, glancing nervously at the table. “And if you want to know the hard, truth, the opera wasn’t bringing in enough money which is why I needed to do something. I went hungry so many nights. That dumbass statement I wrote on my entrance interview kept me from turning to prostitution to survive.”

Rodrigue stared at Dorothea, completely enamored with her story and also painfully moved by her strong, unbreakable will. No wonder Felix loved her. She was just as stubborn and dedicated as he was. The difference was that her stubbornness turned her into a strong woman with a hard knock education and unmatched determination. Rodrigue felt guilty because he took responsibility for not having raised Felix to appreciate the human condition. As far as he was concerned, Felix was, in his mind, a pansy ass, who didn’t deserve a woman with a story like that. _She_ was the kind of Duchess the Fraldarian territory needed. A Duchess to empower the women of Fraldarius and to reach the people the way Rodrigue or his wife could not. He practically salivated at the thought of Dorothea as his daughter-in-law _and_ Duchess Fraldarius. He knew the people would adore her and that she would easily overshadow Felix in terms of personality. Rodrigue had at least twenty more questions but he was much too excited. After a response like that? None of them mattered.

He nodded and smiled genuinely. It destroyed Dorothea. Goddess! If it weren’t for this gorgeous man, _she_ wouldn’t be marrying Felix in the first place! She practically _owed_ it to him to fuck him on this desk, right…RIGHT!? “Rodrigue, you are giving me the greatest gift of all…your son…now let me thank you the way a proper Duchess-to-be should. Shit. He just said something and she wasn’t listening….

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Dorothea asked, finishing her whiskey and shoving her glass aside and hoping that he didn’t dare pour her another.

“My apologies. I was mumbling because I couldn’t find the words. I just think that is an incredible story and…I can’t wait to step down from the Duchy and hand it over to you and Felix. I want you to know that, you will want for _nothing_ the rest of your days. I have no doubts that Felix will take care of you. And if he should fail to do that, don’t hesitate to speak up.” Rodrigue said, flipping the document to the back page. “Now!!” Rodrigue clapped his hands together. “The particulars…you and Felix will need to come to Fraldarius territory after your engagement is made official. There will be a party thrown in your honor. Also, you and Felix will complete six weeks of pre-marital counseling. Have someone in the clergy sign off when it’s finished.” Rodrigue said, making some notes on the document. 

What about the six _months_ of pre-marital sex? Didn’t that count for…something? Didn’t that equate to at least _one_ session with a clergyman? Dorothea went down on Felix once in the back of the cathedral late, late at night when they were both _very_ drunk. Felix’s mouth had uttered such filth that they both should have run straight to the alter and asked for thirty-seven flavors of forgiveness…they drunkenly crashed into the dining hall and took the leftover beast teppanyaki instead. What could they possibly learn from counseling that wasn’t learned that night?

“One last thing, Dorothea.” Rodrigue began, handing a pen over to her.

“What!? You want to get undressed!? Here!? Okay!” Dorothea thought to herself.

“I need you to sign. Your signature indicates intent to marry into House Fraldarius and states that should you _not_ marry into House Fraldarius, everything herein becomes null and void.” Dorothea smiled at Rodrigue’s explanation.

“Rodrigue? How old are you?” she asked, holding the pen.

“Forty-six.” He answered. Ugh…. that’s only the _hottest_ age!!! “Why?” he laughed. “Do you think I’m old and out of touch?”

“Not at all. It’s just…looking at you is like looking at Felix twenty years from now.” She said.

“And?” Rodrigue questioned. Dorothea flashed an enormous smile as she proudly signed the document, dropping the pen to the table.

“Nice.” She answered, raising her eyebrows.

* * *

Edelgard laughed stupidly and leaned over against Petra. The two had been drinking _a lot_. Right now, Edelgard was in the best mood she had been in for some time. She wasn’t fighting with Hubert or Petra. In fact, Hubert had gone out with Caspar for the evening so Edelgard could be with Petra. As far as he knew, it was a girl’s night…and it would be…until Petra and Edelgard eventually got _too_ drunk and their clothes came off.

“Here’s…to this fantastic summer evening!” Petra said, stray pieces of plum hair caught on the evening breeze. Edelgard laughed.

“No. To you, beautiful!” Edelgard’s face lit up brighter than the setting sun. It was a magnificent evening for drinks on the patio in tonight. The town was alive and Edelgard and Petra were _in_ to each other. Edelgard reached out with her free hand, taking Petra’s. She laughed. “I’m not wearing anything under this shirt.” Edelgard said, giggling and taking another drink.

“Ooooooh! You are such a tease!” Petra said, laughing with her. She leaned over and kissed Edelgard and for once, Edelgard didn’t care who saw, who commented or if there were any reaction at all. Edelgard even kissed her _back_ with intensity and with… _commitment._ Petra’s face lit up. “I’m not used to seeing you like this.”

“What, horny?” Edelgard said. Petra laughed and leaned back in her chair. She eyed Edelgard as she fumbled to get a cigarette out of her pack. Petra was so beautiful. She was electrifying and enticing. Edelgard couldn’t understand why she didn’t have to beat women…or men…off Petra. She watched as Petra eye-fucked her from across the table, dragging on her cigarette and in general, being the most beautiful thing Edelgard had ever seen in her life. She motioned Petra toward her. Petra exhaled her cigarette and leaned across the table with intoxicating eyes and breasts about to fall out of her top.

“Yes?” she asked, chewing on her tongue.

“You wanna’ know what I want?” Edelgard asked.

“Always.” Petra answered as she hung on bated breath.

“I want…” Edelgard began, smiling all over. “…you and I…to have a threesome with Hubert.” Petra was…she wasn’t quite sure how to react. She exhaled a plume of smoke.

“Are you serious?” Petra asked. It was a fair question. Was Edelgard serious or was that the three martinis talking?

“I am… _very_ serious. Would you be willing?” Edelgard asked, laughing and taking Petra’s hands in hers one again.

“I’d be willing. Besides, most threesomes turn into the guy spanking off while the girls have all the fun, am I right?” she asked. Edelgard could feel her body catch fire at the fact that Petra was willing to do this. “Was this his idea?”

“No. He doesn’t know anything about it. I wanted to talk to you first. Lay some ground rules.” Edelgard said. Petra exhaled on her cigarette again.

“The only rules I have is Hubert can’t fuck me.” Petra said.

“That’s fair.” She said, kissing Petra again, tasting cigarette on her lips.

“When.” Petra asked. Edelgard shrugged.

“I don’t know yet. I’ll arrange it.”

“Have you…ever had one before?” Petra asked.

“No.” Edelgard said, laughing. She almost thought it absurd that Petra would think she had. Edelgard had been in the nice, comfortable, mostly conservative Hubert zone for nearly two years. Hubert had been Edelgard’s first _everything_. It would be rude to _not_ make him her first threesome. Petra’s smile said it all.

“I have.” She said. As if Edelgard’s eyes couldn’t have gotten any wider or hungrier.

“I…I need details.” She said.

“It was a while ago. I was in Brigid and um…I was with these two other girls and one thing led to another and we just went with it. Now here I am telling _you_ about it. I have _never_ been with a man, Edelgard.” Petra pushed her cigarette into the tray before her. There was one _small_ detail that Petra left out of her story: that little stunt cost her the already crumbling relationship she had with Shamir.

“If you’ll oblige him, Hubert will _not_ be a disappointment to you, I promise. He won’t fuck you...” Edelgard laughed. “…but, oh shit…. he will show you a _hell_ of a time.” Petra giggled. She nodded.

“Okay…okay you’re convincing. I’ll oblige him.” Edelgard beamed. She was so turned on for this.

“Alright! C’mon, let’s get out of here.” Edelgard stood up and left a tip on the table for the waitress. Petra laughed again.

“Where are we going?” She asked, so eagerly taking Edelgard’s hand.

“First, we’re going for a walk. Then…to your room.” Edelgard said, not wanting this fantastic evening to past them by. She _really_ knew how to pour on the romance when she wanted to. Or, more likely, the _martinis_ knew how to pour on the romance.

* * *

Rodrigue stared at Felix. Felix stared back as if his father were _completely_ wasting his time. “I don’t have all day. So, did you meet her?”

“I met her.” Rodrigue answered. “I like her. I like a lot, in fact. She’ll make a fine Duchess.”

“Hmph.” Was Felix’s only response.

“I think she loves you, Felix.” Rodrigue said.

“Of course, she _loves_ me! Why the hell would you come all the way out here with an intent to marry document if she didn’t!?” Felix sighed and crossed his arms before him, giving his father a most unpleasant scowl.

“You need to work on your attitude. You’re incorrigible sometimes. I swear, Felix. I didn’t raise you to be an asshole.” Rodrigue said.

“I’m _not an asshole!_ ” Felix insisted.

“Well, there’s very little about you that’s pleasant.”

“I have friends! And I don’t treat them poorly! And I’m not like this at all with Dee! You bring out the worst in me!” Felix spat.

“I never _see_ you, Felix! I’m serious! You need to cut this shit out because when your mother and I step down, you and Dorothea inherit the Dukedom. You _cannot_ piss everyone off around you!”

“You know what? What do you want? Why did you want to see me?” Felix argued.

“I wanted to tell you how impressed I am with your girlfriend. I refuse to fight with you, Felix. And when you two get married and have children of your own, I want to be there to help you raise those children. So, you and I…we need to put our differences aside for the sake of your marriage. I have every intention of having a loving relationship with my daughter-in-law and you can either make that very difficult or you can stop acting like the pussy you are and man up. You’re going to ask for a woman’s hand who is _so_ above you. She could do so much…” Felix cut his father off.

“You don’t think I know that!? _Of course,_ Dorothea could do better than me! _Of course,_ I don’t deserve her! You don’t…you…” Felix huffed. “You don’t think I have questioned _every_ day, why the hell she loves me so much!? I have done _nothing_ to deserve _her,_ okay!? I thank the Goddess every. Damn. Day. For her. Dorothea is talented, she’s smart, she charming, she’s _fucking beautiful_ and I am just the dumbass who…who…” Felix sighed in frustration. “…our first time together was awful. I was mortified because it lasted three and a half seconds and instead of laughing or…making fun of me, she just put her arms around me, and I remember listening to how fast her heart was beating. Believe me, it wasn’t because of how I _performed_. It was because _I_ made her heart race. Me. So there. That’s how I really feel about Dee and despite what you think, she makes me a _much_ better man.” Felix said, still irritated. Rodrigue nodded. There was silence between them.

“You’re my son. And I do love you. I’m happy…and relieved you’ve found a woman like Dorothea…which is…why I brought you this…” Rodrigue reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, sliding it across the table toward Felix. Felix’s eyes widened. Now _he_ was the one who was speechless.

“Are you serious!?” he asked, his tone completely changed.

“Like I said, you’re my son and I love you. And…since you, so diplomatically said about the Noble’s ring that you, quote, ‘wouldn’t pay for a blow job from a back-alley hoe with that cheap piece of shit’…I had no choice. Take a look. Make sure it’s what you had in mind.” Rodrigue said, awaiting Felix’s reaction to the sight inside the box. Felix opened the lip and his breath hitched. He felt an enormous lump in his throat as his eyes fluttered. He nodded his head approvingly. He was in awe of it: Two karats. Emerald cut. Solitaire. It had been Felix’ mother’s ring. Rodrigue bought for her for their twentieth wedding anniversary. She gave Rodrigue the blessing to give it to Felix.

“Now that…is a ring.” He said, his voice cracking. He looked to his father across the table before snapping the box shut. Felix sighed heavily and stood up, swallowing the emotion he felt overcome him. He opened his arms to Rodrigue. Rodrigue stood and gladly accepted his son’s embrace. It had been the first time he hugged his Felix in over a year. Rodrigue squeezed his shoulders before patting Felix’s back forcefully. “You’re strong. I can tell you’ve been training a lot.” Felix smiled.

“Every day.” He assured Rodrigue.

“Very well. I have one more stop to make. As per your letter, I too am worried for Dimitri.” Rodrigue said, giving Felix one last pat on the shoulder.

“Good. Go fix that miserable boar. He’s a sight for sore eyes.” Felix said before tucking the ring box into his pocket.

* * *

Claude’s wyvern wasn’t allowed to play in the mud. She was allowed to play in the pond but, not the mud. So, as Shamir stood in the freshly manicured grass, vodka cranberry in hand, watching 1100 pounds of screaming, screeching, lizard wallow in the mud, she couldn’t have been more pleased with herself. Catherine put her hands on her hips.

“Didn’t Claude say something along the lines of…don’t let the wyvern play in the mud?” Catherine asked. Shamir took another drink.

“He said _exactly_ that.” She answered.

“Shamir, he’s going to _kill you_. That thing is making the biggest mess I’ve ever seen!”

“Yeah, well, so is Claude.” Shamir answered, taking a long sip of the vodka cranberry. “Besides! Look how much fun she’s having!” The wyvern sent mounds of mud flinging into the air, rolling over to her back and shrieking at full force. Catherine looked endearingly at Shamir, shaking her head.

“Shamir Nevrand, I love you. I am… _madly_ in love with you.” That statement caught Shamir quite off guard. She focused her attention on Catherine.

“You love me because I’m deliberately letting that wyvern make a huge ass mess while Claude is out also making a huge ass mess?” Catherine’s smile lit up her face.

“That among so many other things.” She said, leaning in and kissing Shamir. Shamir turned pinker than the flowers the baby wyverns were currently eating that grew alongside the enclosure.

“I love you too, Cat. And not because you’re letting the wyvern babies eat the flowers.”

“What!? Shiiiiit!! They aren’t supposed to…heeeeeey! Stop that! Get over here!” Catherine hustled to the flower bed to shew them out. “Damn it! Seteth had this bed looking so good, too…” Catherine shook her head. “You do, really? You love me, huh?” Shamir smiled.

“I love you more than you know. But…those are… _really_ tough words for me to say.” Shamir admitted. 

“They don’t have to be. Not anymore.” Catherine said, before kissing her again. Shamir smiled like a school girl who had just been picked to come write on the board.

“Okay, girls. My apologies. Catherine, your vodka cranberry… _with_ lime.” Seteth said walking up behind them with a tray of freshly made vodka cranberries. He took his own and set the tray aside, as did Shamir. “It’s such a beautiful day and…” he stopped and saw the flower bed. Well, what was left of it. “What the hell happened to the flowers!?”

_“Catherine_ was being an irresponsible wyvern mom! She let the babies eat them!" Shamir said.

"That’s nothing! Shamir let Claude’s wyvern get in the mud!” Catherine pointed.

“You know, speaking of which…where is Claude? He’s been gone for six days. I can’t believe he’s been away from the babies this long. Oh! Cheers girls. To the destroyed flower bed!” Seteth said, holding up his vodka cranberry glass. Catherine and Shamir would most definitely drink to that. Shamir gave Catherine a wink over her vodka cranberry glass causing Catherine to blush again.

“Eeeh, you know Claude. He probably had something _super_ important to do. I’m sure it will turn out _completely_ fine.” Shamir said, taking a long drink of vodka cranberry.

“Besides, he wouldn’t be some deadbeat dad who just up and leaves his wyvern babies…oh wait…he already did. He must have had sooooome offer on the…800 thread count Almyran spun cotton sheets to leave that cute little pile of sleeping dragons.” Catherine took a drink and swirled her ice around as she watched the three wyvern babies pile on top of one another and purr themselves to sleep. It was amazing how they could go from destructive maniacs to sleeping angels in under twenty minutes.

“It’s unique that they are exhibiting that behavior because sibling nesting is most generally observed in the wild. It leads me to the theory that they were fathered by a wild wyvern and not one from our stock.” Seteth explained. Catherine shook her head.

“I have to say, Seteth…you’re hot when you talk all wyvern. If I were a straight woman…damn…” Catherine said. Seteth laughed.

“You know, Catherine. I can never tell if you’re being serious or making fun of me.” Seteth said. Shamir couldn’t hide her laughter at this banter.

“Hey!” she began, pointing the strawberry from her glass at Seteth, “I would _never_ lie about your sex appeal. In fact….Seteth…” Catherine paused as Shamir only laughed harder. “…did you know you’re my freebie?”

“I’m your….is…that a word…”Seteth lowered his voice, “….lesbians…use? I…I don’t know the terms…” Catherine and Shamir cackled like Claude’s wyvern who was currently nose-diving into the pond and generally causing a ruckus.

“Oooh Seteth. No...no we...don't have a manual...'how to be a lesbian: volume three.' We don't have that. You’re who I would fuck if I were straight, stupid!” Catherine explained. Seteth stared in…disbelief? Horror? Confusion?

“Catherine! That’s very sweet. I’ll take that as a compliment!” he said zealously. Shamir was nearly on the ground with laughter.

“Damn right you will…. daddy.” Catherine said, raising her eyebrows and completely forcing Shamir to the ground in laughter. It woke up the sleeping wyverns. They were overjoyed at the sight of Shamir on the ground. She didn’t stand a chance. She was stormed by three sets of outstretched wings.

“See!?” she said through her laughter. “See, Catherine? This. This is why I love you.” Shamir hadn’t laughed so hard in her life and laughter was infectious. Seteth had to sit his vodka cranberry aside to keep from spilling it.

“Stop! You girls are going to choke me.” He said, sitting his vodka cranberry aside.

“Only if you’re into that kind of thing.” Catherine said, sitting in the grass and coaxing one of the wyverns from Shamir. She and Shamir only laughed harder. Tears were streaming down Shamir’s face.

“I…I guess the girls get a different talk than the boys.” Seteth said, joining Catherine and Shamir in the grass as the bronze wyvern hurried to him.

* * *

“Ro….Rodrigue!? Rodrigue!? Seriously!?” Dimitri was overjoyed at the sight of Rodrigue.

“Whew! You’re a mess.” Rodrigue said, greeting Dimitri and grabbing his shoulders. “Good to see you.”

“What are you doing here?” Dimitri asked, sitting up in his bed.

“Sit up and I’ll tell you.” Rodrigue ordered him. Dimitri did as he was instructed. “Originally, I had matters with Felix but…when he wrote me, he said that you haven’t been at your best.”

“It’s…it’s been a hard several months, Rodrigue. I…” Rodrigue stopped him.

“Felix said it’s been _quite_ bad, to be honest. He said you’ve hardly gotten out of bed, that you haven’t taken care of yourself, which… is more than obvious. Felix said you’ve been like this for what is approaching a year. He said you’ve all but abandoned the house and that your professor has been pressed past her limit. Why, Dimitri?” Rodrigue questioned.

“I’ve tried but it’s been so very hard, and it’s been such a…” Rodrigue interrupted again.

“You haven’t tried hard enough! Look at you! You’re miserably out of shape. You don’t even look like you care! It’s pathetic! Dimitri, when you leave this academy, you are going to lead a _nation_ of people. The people of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. Not a prince but a King…King Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. Son of my dearest friend. I look at you right now and I don’t see a king. I see a crumbled, broken, man _incapable_ of leading himself, let alone a kingdom! I don’t give a shit about any excuse you give me. I can look at you and tell that you’ve been very hard on the people around you. Dimitri, this is unacceptable.” Rodrigue lectured.

“You don’t know how painful it’s been for me, Rodrigue. You don’t know how hard it’s been to face the day.” Dimitri argued.

“A man breaks a leg, it’s painful. But if he wants to walk again, guess what, Dimitri? He tries. It’s hard, its uncomfortable, the progress is slow…but he _tries._ It doesn’t appear that you’ve done much trying at all. Who has been responsible for you, while you lie here and deteriorate?” Dimitri digested Rodrigue’s words.

“The professor…Byleth…my beloved.” Dimitri answered. Rodrigue shook his head.

“And has she been attentive to your care?” Dimitri thought about the best way to answer Rodrigue. Had she been attentive? If giving up everything for the sake of Dimitri was attentive, then yes, she had absolutely been attentive.

“She has…she…” Dimitri choked on the words. “…she has rearranged her entire life around _me_.” He covered his face. Dimitri cried. He cried for all the things he couldn’t say. He cried for everything he regretted. He cried for what a failure he had become. And, he cried because he hadn’t been able to properly outlet so much unresolved pain.

“Dimitri have you thanked _anyone_ for not allowing you to rot into yourself? Because frankly, had no one been looking after you, that’s what would have happened.” Rodrigue asked and stated.

“No….” Dimitri wept, nearly inconsolable. Rodrigue put a hand on Dimitri’s back and pulled him closer.

“Dimitri. I’m going to arrange for someone to be here, in your face, every morning at 6AM. And it won’t be Byleth because she needs a break from you. You are to be in the training grounds daily from 6:30 until 10:00 every day. You need to put back the weight you’ve lost. Don’t get bulky, get defined. It won’t be easy, and you will curse me under your breath, but you’ll do it. The next time I see you, I don’t want to see such soft arms. I want you meeting with the church counselor once a week. And your medications. Felix wrote me that you’ve done nothing but fight Byleth about the dosage and your dependence on them. You are to not ask _anyone_ for a sleeping pill under any circumstance. You’ll be tired enough from training. I want you in weekly devotion in the cathedral. I want you reading _daily_ about civics, law, and ethics. I’ll see to it you are tested on your knowledge frequently. These are _my_ orders, Dimitri because these would have been your father’s orders. If you don’t follow them, you will crush everything you love, including yourself. Do you hear me, Dimitri?” Rodrigue pep talked him, shaking Dimitri’s shoulders.

“Yes…” Dimitri answered through his tears.

“That’s weak!! Can you hear me Dimitri!?” Rodrigue nearly shouted.

“Yes! YES! I can hear you Rodrigue.” Dimitri said, pushing hair out of his face.

“Get up!” Rodrigue, ordered Dimitri to his feet. “Look at me!” Rodrigue pulled his handkerchief from his inner pocket and wiped Dimitri’s face.

“What are you going to do, Dimitri?”

“I’ll…I’ll do it…I’ll cut through…” Dimitri said, still worked up from all his weeping. His face was swollen and pink.

“Louder. Like you mean it.” Rodrigue said.

“I’LL CUT THROUGH!” Dimitri said with affirmation, stray tears still falling down his cheeks.

“That’s my boy!” Rodrigue said, taking Dimitri in his arms. “You’re like a son to me, Dimitri. I’d be letting your father down if ever anything happened to you. I’m stepping down from the Dukedom and I have to ensure Faerghus sees its rightful king on the throne.”

“You’re stepping down? What do you mean?” Dimitri asked, releasing Rodrigue and wiping his eyes.

“I am. Turning it all over to Felix and his wife-to-be.” Now Dimitri was more confused than ever.

“Since when is Felix…what?” Rodrigue laughed.

“There’s life out there, Dimitri and you’re missing it.”

* * *

On average, most women take twenty minutes to climax. If she’s _really_ worked up, fifteen. Most men take seven minutes to climax. If he _really_ slows things down, eleven. None of these statistics applied to Claude, however, who somehow managed to bridge this great divide…. with unnerving consistency. He could delay and delay and delay _more_ if it meant Byleth would come with him. The thing about edging was that it took intense control and there tended to be a _lot_ of sweat. Byleth’s skin had formed a smooth sheen of sweat that Claude easily slid against. She indulged in the way the ends of Claude’s hair were saturated in his own sweat. He smelled so purely _raw_. Byleth’s thighs trembled because she was _so_ close and the more Claude denied her, the more her thighs gave. She had her fingers sunk into Claude’s lower back, hypnotized at the way his every muscle contracted against her. She moaned, her humid breath colliding with Claude’s.

“Look at me…” he panted at her, locking those lust-heavy green eyes on her. “Count to ten with me…” Byleth shook her head against the pillow, Claude’s hot palm on her sweaty cheek. “Breathe with each second, yeah? This is it…” Claude cautioned her, his own sweat falling in drops on her neck. Byleth had _never_ done anything quite like this before. Comparing Dimitri and Claude in bed was grossly unfair because it was like comparing Noa Fruit to blue cheese. They looked different, they tasted different, they had _nothing_ in common, and which one you wanted in you was strictly a preference call. Byleth could feel her pulse race. Claude had been grinding against her _exactly_ where she needed it and now, she was being denied her own orgasm repeatedly. It was like bringing soup to that point _right_ before it boils, only to turn it down and bring it to a near boiling point again. Claude was about to explode and he would soon enough. Byleth trembled as she and Claude neared their countdown to ten.

“I…want….” Byleth whispered with shuddered breath.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” Claude begged of her, kissing her salty lips.

“You…” she shook.

“Tell me again…” he murmured, kissing her once more.

“You…I want… _you_ …oooooh…. _Claude…_ ” the countdown was over. Byleth’s eyes burned into his and she sunk her fingers deeper into his hips.

“Harder…grab me harder…” Claude ordered her. Byleth sunk her nails deep, eliciting a deep moan from Claude's slicked-down throat.

“Claude…Claude… _Claude…_ ” Byleth pleaded for him. She could feel Claude’s body shake under the pressure of her fingertips.

“Ooooh, shit…oooh…shhhhit…” His breaths became heavier, shorter…hotter. Byleth arched her back more than she had anticipated. She didn’t expect it to feel like _this_ …the most intense climax she had ever experienced. So inwardly felt…that her head spun. Byleth’s body had never contracted so convulsively. Her mouth fell open, but no sound escaped it. At least, not for about 3 seconds. Talk about a delay. Byleth’s moan was deeply passionate, crashing into Claude’s. She had left deep, visible fingernail marks in his hips, so deep he would probably have a bruise…or two. He came _so_ hard…so hard that he collapsed onto Byleth. She didn’t care. It was an excuse for her to bury her hands into damp hair.

It was so sweaty between and underneath them, there was no telling where _their_ wetness began and the perspiration ended. Claude’s body was dead weight on Byleth and _she_ was limp and sunken into the soaked sheets beneath her. Claude finally pushed himself up to his elbows, closing his eyes tightly momentarily as he slipped out of her.

“You…make me _crazy_ …” He said, his voice so soft and content. Byleth wanted to answer with ‘Claude, you are the best I’ve ever. I want to fuck you every damn day. Dimitri has nothing on you. Also, you make my body feel things I can’t even explain’. But, why bring Dimitri into this? Instead, she answered with,

“You make me _so weak_ …” she sighed. Claude smiled at her as drops of sweat from his hair hit Byleth’s neck again. “That smile…Goddess…that _perfect_ … _sexy_ smile…uuuuuhhhhh…”

“C’mon. We _desperately_ need a shower. We’ll change out this bed and crash for the rest of the night.” Claude said, kissing her wet neck. Byleth smiled and nodded the best she could. Claude reluctantly pushed himself up, his back shining. He reached a hand to Byleth. She took his hand, allowing him to pull her up. She hadn’t planned on the massive shift she felt between her legs as gravity kicked in. For a moment, she feared her ability to walk across this marble floor but Claude’s arm around her would steady her _very_ spent legs. When she stood up, Byleth could feel a trail of wet run down the inside of her leg.

“Are you going to wash my hair?” she asked.

“You wash mine; I’ll wash yours.” He said. Claude’s bath was just as indulgent as everything else about Claude. The black marble and the soft golden-hued fixtures would have enticed anyone remain in here under the pouring water. The first time she was in Claude’s shower, she was half-hungover, sore and exhausted from the way Claude had worked her over. The hot water felt just as amazing to Byleth now as it did then, even more so because she could watch steams cascade over Claude’s beautifully cut body. “Here. Turn around.” Claude coaxed her. The soap Claude used was made exclusively in Almyra and wasn’t commonly found across Fódlan. The scent intoxicated Byleth. She couldn’t pinpoint _what_ it smelled like. Melon? Pomegranate? The faint lingering of Almyran Pine Needles? All she knew is that it was different than anything found otherwise at the monastery. It was addictive and her hair was currently slathered in it. Byleth leaned backwards into Claude, feeling his fingertips against her scalp. “Okay, time to rinse.” He said, motioning her around. Byleth tilted her head back, allowing the water to purge her.

“That…is…wonderful…” she said, holding on to Claude’s shoulders and rolling her head around. “Alright, trade me.” She said, unable to take her eyes off all that wet, brown-black hair leaving beads of water chasing one another down Claude’s neck. Byleth smiled and lathered up her hands before tangling her fingers into thick layers. She had _never_ been in the shower with a man. As Byleth worked Claude into a luscious lather, she found herself lost in the fact that _this_ was possibly the most sensual thing she’d ever done. Byleth rubbed soapy hands over his shoulder blades before turning Claude around as he had done to her. She leaned forward and pressed wet lips into Claude’s water-logged collarbone.

“I hate rinsing you off me but seeing you wet and naked makes it worthwhile.” Claude said. Byleth’s wet seafoam layers fell in soaked clumps as she smiled dotingly at Claude. He reached behind him, turning the water off. Wet marble was slick, but Claude had the plushest ivory runners to negate that. Byleth carefully stepped onto the white runner, reaching for a towel and handing it over to Claude. Shit. She had almost hoped he would look less sexy wrapped in a towel, but he wasn’t…at all. Not even a little bit. Actually…damn it…the way the stray drops of water ran under the edge of his towel against his hips was glorious. Byleth couldn’t wait to get their sex-soaked sheets changed. She could tell by Claude’s comforted eyes that he was just as ready as she was to crash until the dawned lured them back to the monastery.


	12. The Measure of a Man

Felix knocked at Sylvain’s door and let himself in. “Hey, that was fast.” Sylvain said, having expected Felix’s arrival.

“Yeah, it wasn’t very crowded this morning.” Felix said, taking he and Sylvain’s breakfast out of the bag and putting it on the small table near the wall. “Did you make tea?”

“No, Ingrid made it before she left.” Sylvain answered pushing himself up in bed. “Will you help me change my shirt? That’s the part that still hurts, reaching above my head.”

“Yeah, sure. This one?” Felix asked, seeing the shirt laying on top of Sylvain’s dresser.

“Yeah.” He answered, wincing at the movement of his arm. Felix appreciated Sylvain’s neatness. Despite his injury, everything about his appearance and his dorm was neat. Nothing was ever out of place and judging by the way everything was arranged, Ingrid ensured that it stayed that way.

“Alright, how do you do this?” Felix asked, gathering Sylvain’s shirt.

“Just help me guide my arm. I still can’t move my shoulder above head without pain. If you lift it for me, it doesn’t hurt like crazy. It’s been so shitty. Ingrid has to come dress me before she gets her day started. It’s embarrassing.” Sylvain said.

“She doesn’t _have_ to. She _chooses_ to. You’ll bounce back soon enough. It looks like your wounds have mostly healed.” Felix said, running his finger over the healed indentions in Sylvain’s shoulder.

“They have and overall, I feel okay. I still have _so_ much reduced mobility in that arm and shoulder. And as you can see, it’s scarred…a lot. The collar bone healed up well though. Thank you.” Sylvain said, wincing again as Felix traded Sylvain’s shirts out.

“Sure. You want sugar in your tea?” Felix asked, tossing Sylvain’s shirt into the laundry bag.

“Please. One cube is fine.” Sylvain said, standing up and moving to the small table to join Felix.

“Hmm. Mint tea? It smells nice.” Felix said, shoving the teacup and saucer toward Sylvain.

“Yeah, it is. I’m fairly certain that Dorothea took it from Ferdinand and then shared it with Ingrid.” Sylvain explained, giving the tea a stir.

“Speaking of which, there is something going on with him.” Felix said, stirring his tea as well.

“Like, how so?”

“I don’t know for sure. He just…he acts different. Distracted…kind of like there’s something on his mind.” Felix explained.

“He’s probably wondering what happened to his tea.” Sylvain said. “So, what’s going on with you? What did you want to talk to me about?” Felix put his breakfast sandwich down for a moment and studied the table.

“I um…” he lifted his eyes to Sylvain, noticing his eager expression for what Felix may say next. “Well, it’s…it’s this. I need you to hold on to this for a while.” Felix reached into his pocket and slid his newly acquired box across the table. Sylvain watched the black velvet move closer to him.

“What the…” Sylvain wiped his hands and opened the box. “Holy….shit, Felix.”

“Yeah, um…so…I’m…getting married…well, unless Dorothea wakes up one day and realizes that she could be with someone a hell of a lot better than me.” Sylvain had stopped eating.

“Wh…wha…what!? Mar… _married_!? You’re getting _married_!? What? How!? When? What the…okay….you talk now.”

“Dorothea and I were talking one night and I basically just kind of asked her how she felt about being my wife and she said that she would want to be my wife. She’s already signed a statement of intent to marry into House Fraldarius. And, I refused to propose to her with the Noble’s ring because it’s so damn ugly. So, I asked my dad to bring me _that_ ring. I’m not proposing yet so I want you to hold on to it for me. Since we basically live together, I know Dee will find it.” Felix conveyed.

“I get my shoulder cut in half and all this shit happens in the two or so weeks I’m out of commission!? Goddess! I can’t believe this, Felix. Married. You’re going to _marry_ Dorothea Arnault? You realize that shit’s for life, right?”

“I’ve put a lot of thought into it, actually.” Felix sighed. “Can I….can I just be _really_ transparent with you for a minute?”

“Always, Felix.” Sylvain answered seriously.

“It’s almost July. Our _last_ academic calendar at this monastery starts in August. This time next year, we will be graduates and that means everyone goes their separate ways. And that, scares the absolute shit out of me to think that…there are some people we see right now, _every day_. Once we graduate we may _never_ see some of those people again. I can’t let Dorothea be one of those people.” Felix said, his reaction far more emotional than Sylvain would have ever expected.

“Felix, she’s been your girlfriend for nearly seven months. Just because we graduate doesn’t mean she _stops_ being your girlfriend.”

“You don’t know that. I don’t know that. Let’s say, she and I never had a discussion about marriage. Then, along comes graduation and she takes a job as a singer or a voice instructor or something in the Empire? See? Then what. It’s one thing to be boyfriend and girlfriend but then you have to make a decision. Do you want more together or was it all just convenient? That’s why I felt compelled to have that talk with her. I needed to know if marriage was even a possibility.” Felix leaned back in his chair and wiped his hand over his face. “Sylvain, I _love_ her _so_ much. And I, I started thinking about some things my dad said because he’s right. I’m a real handful. I’m going to take over the Dukedom and I can’t piss everyone off. But, when I’m with Dee, I’m not like that.” Felix paused and studied Sylvain’s sincere expression. “Do you think I’m a fool? Do you think I’m rushing into it?”

Sylvain shook his head, his eyes fixed on Felix. “No. No, not at all. I think everything you just said makes perfect sense. And…I hadn’t thought of it all that way. Shit, Felix. I…I didn’t know the time had…gone by that quickly. And you _are_ different. She softens you a lot and I don’t mean that in a bad way at all.” Felix smiled.

“There have been nights that I’ve laid awake beside Dorothea just…having anxiety about what would happen if she weren’t laying there so peacefully. What would have happened if she and I hadn’t gotten together the way that we did. Can you imagine? Ugh…I can’t even bring myself to think about life without Dee.” Felix exhaled in relief and let his head fall back. “There you have it. When the time is right, I’ll propose but now isn’t a good time. She just signed the statement of intent and all.”

“I promise I’ll keep watch over this. It’s a beautiful ring. Shit. Look at this thing. Well, Felix….” Sylvain snapped the box shut. “…you’ve set the bar high. I’ve been thinking a lot too lately. I’ve wasted so much time here. And, I didn’t realize how much time I’d wasted until that short spear nearly killed me.” Sylvain sighed heavily. “I regret so many decisions I’ve made but the one decision I’ll never regret is taking things beyond friends with Ingrid.” Sylvain’s emotions were already at the surface because of the pain medication and this just made things worse. He put his hands over his eyes.

“It’s okay, man, I get it. I _completely_ get it.” Felix assured him.

“Do you have any idea what a complete failure I would be, without Ingrid pushing me and supporting me and making me reach higher _every_ day?”

“Yeah, I do. She changed you, Sylvain. She re-prioritized your life.” Felix said, honestly.

“There was this moment when Mercedes was working on me in the infirmary and…I really wondered if I was going to make it. All I could think about was the fact that I hadn’t told Ingrid how much I loved her. The first night after Mercedes dismissed me, I was laying there in bed and Ingrid was leaned over against my knees. I was hyped up on medication, and I reached for her hand and my mind said ‘I love you, Ingrid’ but I just started to cry. She put her arms around me, and I swear to the Goddess in that moment I thought to myself…Shit…I could marry this woman. It was the most comfort I had ever felt in my entire life.” Sylvain laughed slightly and shook his head. “Now, you’ve got me thinking, Felix. You reeeally got me thinking. You know, a while back, Ingrid’s father was really hassling her with marriage proposals and pre-nups. So, I told her to write her father a letter and tell him that she had intentions of marrying into House Gautier. Sylvain laughed harder.

“Are you serious? She did that?” Felix laughed.

“She did! Haven’t heard a peep out of her dad since.” Sylvain opened Felix’s ring box again. “But, this right here....” He laughed. “Do you realize I’m going to become Margrave Gautier? I have no idea how to do that…I’m not entirely sure what one does! I bet Ingrid could figure it out. Damn. Now you’ve got me thinking about this kind of stuff.” Felix watched as Sylvain took Felix’s ring from its box. He appeared to be in deep thought. “That’s a beautiful ring. She’s gonna’ cry, you know? She’s going to expect that shitty ass Noble’s ring and you’re going to blind her with this.” Felix smiled.

“Where do you think I should do it? When I propose, where should it be?”

“I…I really don’t know. I don’t know what’s important or to you two. And, I…I don’t know about the when. I guess when you know the timing is right.” Sylvain answered, still examining Felix’s stone.

“What if it were you? How would you do it?” Sylvain put the ring back into its box and snapped the lid shut again. He took it between his fingers and looked up at Felix.

“The pond. I’d do it at the pond at sunset because that was the turning point for us. And, I wouldn’t do anything grand. I would just want it to be me and her and…the sunset. I’d want her to know that she changed my life once in that spot by the pond and that I wanted her to change it again. Then, I would get down on one knee and I would open this box, like this and I would say Ingrid, will you marry me?” Felix stared at Sylvain, having gotten much more than he bargained for. Sylvain locked eyes with Felix. “Oh…shit…” Sylvain finally said. Felix smiled.

“That’s pretty damn good for someone who has never put any thought into it.”

* * *

Ferdinand had a beautiful tenor voice. Manuela could listen to his diverse register all day. Ferdinand was unique in that he could reach part of the baritone range and still manage incredible control into his head voice. Manuela pushed Ferdinand to develop his falsetto, but it hadn’t come as naturally as he had hoped. It was difficult to find men who loved to sing, let alone with as much as heart as Ferdinand did. Granted, Ferdinand wore his heart on his sleeve, it was hard _not_ to sing without it. He and Dorothea sounded incredible as a duet. Dorothea was a mezzo-soprano. She and Ferdinand played off each other. Their lessons typically consisted of three scale warm-ups: major and minor mode, three harmony exercises, rehearsal of two secular pieces and ending with a hymn rehearsal. At times, Manuela wouldn’t offer any guidance, she would simply listen. Manuela sometimes regretted encouraging Dorothea to come to the monastery. However, she was well aware that the opera couldn’t support its performers. The monastery was the only hope for the both of them.

Currently, Manuela was engrossed. Ferdinand and Dorothea looked so much like a couple when they sang together. To the untrained eye, they could pass it off. There was so much cohesion between them when they performed. Manuela watched them dreamily as Dorothea waited for Ferdinand’s cue. Manuela envied their friendship. It wasn’t that she _meant_ to ruin every friendship or romantic relationship she attempted; it was just that Manuela was best handled in small doses.

“Sorry…” Dorothea cleared her throat. “…I was late on the last note.” She said.

“It wasn’t you. I held it out one count too long.” Ferdinand said, closing his binder with all of his music. “What did you think, Manuela?”

“It sounds divine! The parts have come together so nicely! Next week, same time?” she asked. Dorothea was ready to agree when she remembered that something _very_ important was beginning next week: pre-marital counseling.

“Can we go either an hour earlier or later? Ferdinand is that okay?” Dorothea asked, re-arranging her music.

“Sure. Let’s go for an hour later than our usual.” He agreed.

“Excellent! Next week, we’ll finish this hymn and begin a new chorale.” Manuela said as she made some notes in her manuscript.

“Thanks, Manuela. We’ll see you next week.” Dorothea said, gathering up her things and following Ferdinand out the door. She closed it behind them and hardly got her hand off the doorknob before Ferdinand stepped in front of her.

“I need your help with something.” He said rather nervously.

“Okay?” she questioned.

“Like…now. I need your help now.” He said.

“Alright. What do you need my help with?”

“Just…. just follow me…” Ferdinand hurried Dorothea down the hall and toward his room. He quickly opened his door, hustled Dorothea inside and sat his music aside on the nearby desk. Ferdinand took a deep breath and shook out his hands.

“What’s wrong with you? Why are you weird?” Dorothea asked, sitting in the chair near his bed.

“I need your opinion. But, before I get your opinion, I need to tell you something.” Ferdinand said, beginning to pace near his dresser. “Now, before I tell you, just know…that nobody knows this information.” Ferdinand paused. “Also, I _really_ need you to…”

“Goddess, Ferdinand! Tell me already!” Dorothea said, losing her patience.

“Dorothea, I’m seeing Mercedes!” Ferdinand blurted out, grasping his hands.

“You’re…you’re seeing Mercedes? As in…in…you’re… _dating_?” Dorothea asked, not expecting to hear that coming from Ferdinand.

“Yes. Yes, we are dating. Yes. And…there’s something else.” Ferdinand began, his nerves only increasing. “I…might…have slept with her…more than once.”

“WHAT!” Ferdinand had Dorothea’s attention now.

“Don’t…act so shocked!” he half whispered, half yelled, throwing his hands out.

“YOU MIGHT HAVE DONE WHAT!?” Dorothea exclaimed.

“Don’t yell!” he half whispered again.

“FERDINAND!!!” Dorothea put her hands over her mouth. Of everything Ferdinand could have revealed to Dorothea, this was the least likely thing she would have ever expected to hear.

“I told you not to yell!” Ferdinand reiterated.

“YOU’RE SLEEPING WITH MERCEDES! I HAVE TO YELL!” she…yelled. Dorothea was mortified for several reasons. The first being that she was convinced that Ferdinand had only ever slept with his own hand, the second being that she had no idea Ferdinand and Mercedes had ever spent any time together. And the last reason… it was _Mercedes_ …the sweetest, kindest, purest and most gentle soul among souls. Mercedes was supposed to achieve some kind of holy divinity and transcend to a higher plane where only the most innocent and devout congregated. She was _not_ supposed to have succumbed to the worldly temptation that was Ferdinand! “I _cannot_ believe you!” Dorothea said, lowering her voice.

“What do you mean!?” Ferdinand insisted.

“You _slept_ with Mercedes!? Goddess, this was _your_ idea wasn’t it? I just can’t…it’s _Mercedes_ , Ferdinand! What the hell is _wrong_ with you!?” Dorothea semi-freaked out.

“It was _our_ idea! And, the first time was a complete accident!” Ferdinand defended himself, pacing again.

“Oh, yeah…right. It just…slipped and fell in…he same way every other accidental first time happens! How stupid do you think I am!?” Dorothea asked.

“I’m serious! We didn’t intend on…”

“Taking your clothes off? Yeah, I too, just hate it when mine mysteriously come unbuttoned!” Dorothea rolled her eyes. If Ferdinand had freshly brewed tea, she would throw it all over him right now.

“Why are you so baffled by this?” Ferdinand insisted. Dorothea sighed.

“Because! In my mind, Mercedes is practically a saint! And, you don’t fuck a saint!” Ferdinand gasped.

“ _Don’t say….fuck!”_ He whispered, as if _everyone_ in the monastery were listening. He was appalled that Dorothea would think, for a minute, that he, Ferdinand von Aegir, would do _anything_ except make gentle, passionate, love to Mercedes. “Dorothea! I would _never…”_ Ferdinand lowered his voice again, “… _fuck_ Mercedes! I am a man of virtue and respect!” Dorothea surrendered because she remembered all too well when Felix was a man of virtue and respect. Then, Dorothea begged him to come on her tits and that…damn it...suddenly all Dorothea could think about was all of that long ginger-kissed hair and what a mess _that_ could turn into. Dorothea shook her head as she came to terms with the visual of Mercedes begging for Ferdinand. Although…Dorothea had to admit to herself that of _anyone_ in the monastery she would pick for Mercedes, it was him.

Ferdinand was kind, honest, protective…devoted. He was downright chivalrous. He would take care of Mercedes. He wouldn't let anyone hurt her. Dorothea sighed again. “Oh, Ferdinand. Alright…tell me more. Wait…you’re not going to ask me for advice, are you? I am not about to tell you how to…” Ferdinand cut Dorothea off, opening his wardrobe and tossing several small bottles onto his bed.

“Mercedes and I were talking the other night and she told me how nice I smelled. Which…I’ve never thought about it before but…I don’t know. Maybe I do. I _always_ shower after I’ve been training or when I’ve been at the stables or…” Ferdinand stopped, seeing Dorothea’s ‘get on with it’ stare. “Okay, okay…I’m sorry…I digress…anyway…she said to me…and…please don’t freak out when I tell you this…Mercedes told me that she feels like she always smells like the infirmary but that she didn’t feel confident in picking out a nice scent. So…she wanted me to…find her a perfume that…I thought was nice.” Ferdinand nervously shook out his hands again.

“Okay? Are these them?” Dorothea asked, picking up one of the bottles Ferdinand threw onto his bed.

“Yes! Try them tell me which one you would wear if…if it were the only thing you were wearing.”

“WHAT!? What do you mean if this were the _only…_ Oooooh sweet mother of…”

“See? _This_ was the part you weren’t supposed to freak over! Please, please, _please_ help me pick!” Ferdinand insisted. Dorothea took a deep breath.

“Under one condition…if the sex is bad it’s not my fault.” Dorothea said, opening up the first bottle and giving it a sniff.

“It most certainly _won’t_ be bad! Dorothea, Mercedes is…” he sighed. “…she has the softest lips, and she's so sensual, and…” Dorothea interrupted him. She couldn’t take it. Her ears were burning. It wasn’t that she was a prude who couldn’t discuss someone else’s sex life. She did this _all_ the time with Ingrid. Dorothea knew that Sylvain was pretty damn incredible between the sheets and she didn’t care to know everything about it. But this? This was _completely_ different because it was Ferdinand who, Mercedes would probably, at some point, describe as an attentive and gentle lover. Dorothea simply wasn’t ready for that.

“Okay, Ferdinand…I…get it. Let me just sniff this…Eew…I wouldn’t even fuck Felix if he smelled like whatever is in this bottle.” Dorothea said, eliminating it.

“ _Don’t say…fuck!!”_ Ferdinand reminded her.

“Right. Yeah. You know, at first, I was _not_ not okay with the image of you…naked… _in_ Mercedes but the more I have _that_ image burned into my head, I have to say that I bet you two are actually pretty good together.” Dorothea shook her head. “I don’t like this one either.” She handed it over to Ferdinand for the rejection pile.

“She’s an amazing woman and I just love being with her! She makes me feel…” Dorothea interrupted; her eyes perked up.

“This one. This is it. Very sexual. Very ‘tear my clothes off and fuck me hard’.” Dorothea said, quite pleased with her selection. Ferdinand stared at her.

“ _Why_ …why do you make things so _dirty_? Is this what Felix does to you? Dorothea, you’re my friend. Be honest, is Felix a selfish lover?” he asked. 

“Oh my…Goddess! I am going to punch you in the face! Okay, okay, okay…I think we’re done here.” Dorothea said, standing up. “Take your sex perfume and…fuc…make unforgettable love to Mercedes.” Ferdinand’s smile was so genuine.

“Thank you for your help, Dorothea! _And_ thank you for not saying fuck. You’re the best!” Dorothea couldn’t help but laugh. Hell, she liked Ferdinand a lot even though she gave him a _really_ hard time.

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you next week.” She said. Dorothea would _never_ be able to look Mercedes in the eye again.

* * *

It was already a tough morning. Ingrid’s body had taken a beating. Her arms were sore, her legs were sore, her thighs were on fire…but her skin was simply radiant. She had already done at least a dozen passes. “What are you thinking, Ingrid?” Gilbert asked. If Ingrid were being truthful, what she was thinking was that she was going to die on the back of this stupid Pegasus and Sylvain wouldn’t even be here to witness her demise. This was it. This was the end.

“Um…I’m good…” she said, her voice laced with pure apprehension.

“Hold on to the reigns. Keep your body weight even. You should feel a lot of pressure through the thighs.” Gilbert instructed. That was an understatement. “Keep those reigns tight. Watch how she acts. The more you tighten the reigns, the further she will spread her wings. If you let the reigns slack, she will lower her wings. Try it. See?” Gilbert continued to instruct. Ingrid didn’t quite get it because right now she hated the Pegasus and it seemed to hate her. It reared its head back and outstretched its wings, which caused Ingrid to lose control…this was anything but a harmonious relationship.

“Gilbert, I…I think this isn’t working.” Ingrid said, struggling at every angle.

“Give it time! The Pegasus needs to earn your trust. You’ll get there. Once you ride a few rounds with her, practice commanding her to raise and lower her wings.” Gilbert watched the struggle before him.

“She’s going to throw me, Gilbert!” Ingrid said, doing her best to keep the Pegasus from rearing her head and bucking. “What’s the point of this, exactly?

“To take to the skies of course! Ingrid! You’re talented! You can do this. First, we start with training her on the ground. Then, when you and that Pegasus get along a little better, you’ll teach her to lift on your command.” Gilbert explained.

“Lift?” Ingrid questioned, still fearing for her life.

“Become airborne!” Gilbert said excitedly.

“Ooooooh boy…” Ingrid replied, less than thrilled with the idea. This may have been a good time to mention to Gilbert that the only thing Ingrid had ever ridden was Sylvain and she _knew_ she’d never fall off him. She desperately wanted to fast forward her relationship with this stupid Pegasus so it wouldn’t throw or trample her. She continued to try and manage the reigns and her body, feeling herself lose her balance repeatedly.

“Let’s do some wraps around the ring, Ingrid!” Gilbert called, “Take her over to the rock ledge!”

“The rock ledge?” Ingrid questioned, finally positioning herself in the saddle to hold the reigns with more confidence.

“That’s the ultimate goal…to leap off the edge and get her to drift!” Gilbert explained.

“Whooooa! Whoa, whoa…” Ingrid brought the Pegasus to a stop and slung herself out of the saddle to the ground. “What did you just say? ‘Cause I coulda’ sworn you said something to the effect of…leap off the ledge. Gilbert! Have you seen _the ledge_? It’s…straight down and the drop is… _really_ damn far!” Ingrid said, walking the Pegasus over to Gilbert.

“You aren’t going to leap of the ledge today. It’s a work in progress. I’m surprised you’re so hesitant about this. You’re always so receptive to new changes in your training.” Gilbert said.

“Yeah, I am. Except when those changes include me literally jumping off a ledge on the back of something ridiculously unpredictable! I’d be a lot more comfortable if Sylvain were here to watch me. He at least knows horses.”

“Do you not trust me?” Gilbert wondered.

“It’s not that. I think I would do better with Sylvain. He at least could spot me and give some pointers. He will only be out for a few more days. And the Pegasus hates me! Sylvain can help me with that.”

“ I would more than welcome Sylvain’s input and assurance. You would make a spectacular Pegasus knight! You’ve got outstanding core strength, you’re the perfect weight to height ratio…”

“And my body is so sore that I could voluntarily throw myself off the ledge. Oh, my Goddess…that is… _straight_ down.” Ingrid said, leaning over the rock ledge and peering down. If anyone fell, they would most certainly not survive…and to think, Gilbert wanted her to get on the back of an unruly horse and intentionally plummet to her doom.

“Very well, we’ll stop there for today. Go ice down your legs. We’ll be back at it tomorrow.” Gilbert instructed.

“Are you taking this Pegasus back to the fields?” Ingrid asked, she was ready to break her bond with this horse for the day.

“I’ll take her back. You go recover.” Those were the words Ingrid wanted to hear.

* * *

Byleth sat at her desk making notes and sorting through a pile of paperwork that had gotten very obviously out of hand. There was a knock at her doorframe. Byleth looked up.

“Professor.” Catherine said.

“Hi Catherine.” She said, looking up from her paperwork. Catherine observed Byleth twirling her pen around and all the papers surrounding her.

“You uh…you’re getting caught up, I see. May I come in for a moment?” Catherine asked, stepping into her office. Byleth nodded. Catherine sat down across from her. “So, you uh…you’ve had…” Catherine paused, crossing her legs and her arms. “…where…exactly have you been? Dedue, Ashe and Annette have been the only ones scheduled to be away for assignment.” Catherine said, anxious to hear her answer. Byleth shook her head and put her pen down.

“I told you a while back…I was taking some time off and stepping away from the House. That’s why I entrusted the goings on to you and Shamir.” Byleth answered. Catherine nodded.

“Yeah, and…we haven’t cared to do that. The House pretty much takes care of itself but um…professor…have you even checked on Sylvain since his injury?”

“Injury?” Byleth questioned.

“Um…the short spear incident?” Catherine said, shocked at Byleth’s blank reaction. “Professor, it could have killed him! His shoulder was ripped apart in four places. Because of that, all the short spears used in training have to have blunt edges.” Catherine said. Byleth looked horrified.

“What!? When did…oh my…that’s…is he okay now?” Catherine purposely shrugged, knowing good and well that Sylvain’s recovery had been positive.

“Perhaps you should go check on him and find out.”

“Yeah…yeah, let me put it on my list.” Byleth said, jotting Sylvain’s name down nervously.

“How, uh…how’s Dimitri? ‘Cause I’ll be honest. I haven’t seen him.” Catherine asked. It was as if she had just hit the deepest nerve in Byleth because her expression completely changed.

“I’ll tell you how he is. Better. He’s getting better. I…dedicate _months_ to his care and I get word that Rodrigue Fraldarius shows up and…and…comes up with this damn training plan and Dimitri is magically responsive to it!? That’s bullshit! What about the last twelve months I have put into him!? Huh!? What happened to….to all the time and energy and…and love I’ve given to Dimitri only for him to tell me he doesn’t love me or care about the House anymore!?” Byleth huffed. “Fuck Rodrigue.” Catherine was caught off guard. She had _never_ head Byleth respond with such anger. “I’m…I’m sorry, Catherine…I’m sorry. That was…uncalled for.” Catherine studied Byleth’s face, so overcome with frustration, hurt, anger, hurt, again.

Catherine had a thought. She didn’t realize that Dimitri had told Byleth he didn’t love her or his own House. She watched Byleth rub her forehead. Catherine also didn’t know that Dimitri was in the middle of a downward spiral rage when he said those things to Byleth. What grabbed Catherine’s attention was how very defeated and…brokenhearted Byleth appeared at the mention of Dimitri. That’s what it was. Catherine was sitting across from a broken heart. She unexpectedly felt _sorry_ for Byleth in spite of what she knew was happening in the undercurrents behind Dimitri.

Catherine deduced that what Byleth was involved in was not revenge cheating, it wasn’t spite cheating, it wasn’t even relationship sabotage cheating. Instead, it was the most dangerous kind of all: emotional cheating. The kind that provided _everything_ that Byleth was lacking in she and Dimitri’s relationship. What was concerning to Catherine was how easily this situation could get out of control. Underneath all that heartbreak, Byleth _loved_ Dimitri. She absolutely loved that man. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have tears in her eyes. Tears because she desperately missed what she and Dimitri had? Tears because she felt guilt? Tears because they were simply broken-hearted tears that didn’t require an explanation? For a split second, Catherine actually _condoned_ Byleth sleeping with Claude. Broken-hearted people made broken-hearted decisions.

“I’m…I’m so sorry, professor. I really am. You’ve been nothing but…” Catherine paused, already regretting the words before she spoke them. “…faithful…to Dimitri’s care.” That too, hit a nerve in Byleth.

“I _have_ been faithful to his care! I have been _nothing_ but devoted to everything he’s needed! I deserve more! I deserve a _real_ partner like…” Byleth slammed her fists into her desk and looked suddenly nervous.

Catherine didn’t respond, examining Byleth’s de-railed expression. Catherine had _almost_ gotten her to say it out loud. Perhaps, on some level, Byleth needed to say it out loud. ‘I’m sleeping with Claude von Riegan and he’s _hot_ , he’s _sexy_ and he’s willing to give me _everything_ Dimitri has neglected.’ If Byleth would say it out loud, it would set her free. Instead, she said,

“Sorry…I…I’m sorry Catherine. I’m sorry. I’ll…I’ll go see Sylvain…check on him…see how his healing is progressing.” Byleth said, collecting herself. “Thank you for…for checking in on things. You’ve done a fine job with the house.”

Catherine nodded. “Hey it’s…it’s okay...professor. It’s okay.” Catherine leaned forward and put her hand on Byleth’s. What _she_ needed to say out loud was, ‘Professor, for the love of Seiros, please, get Claude out of your system and get back to Dimitri before your blood runs golden.’ Instead, she patted Byleth’s hand and said, “It’s good to see you again.” Catherine slapped her palms on her lap. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I gotta’ get back to Shamir’s wyvern babies.”

“Sha…Shh…what?” Byleth’s confused look said it all.

“Yeah. Oooh, you don’t know about that. See, Claude…von Riegan… has this wyvern. Claude’s been…away…for a while. The wyvern laid three eggs. Blah, blah, blah. And Shamir, being Claude’s trainer and all, got tasked with caring for the babies. Aaaand we have Seteth in on it and it’s just a grand time down there at the wyvern enclosure.”

“Do you…know anything about wyverns?” Byleth asked.

“Hey! I know _a lot_ about raising wyverns! I know that they screech, they run around a lot, and…and I know other things too!” Catherine insisted, standing up from her chair. She sighed. “I’ll catch up with you later, professor. I’m…headed into mayhem.” The silver lining? Catherine managed to get Byleth to smile at the thought of the chaos that must be unfolding among the wyverns.

* * *

Alois disliked being up at this hour primarily because he hadn’t yet slept off his hangover. Today, however, was different because Dimitri was in the training ring and Alois had him on the ground working on push-ups. Alois kept careful records on the height and weight distribution for most of the men at the monastery. He scowled because Dimitri had weighed in at 150 pounds and for someone who was 6’1”, that was scrawny. Dimitri and Sylvain were the same height and Sylvain, even coming off an injury, was still twenty-four pounds heavier and in _much_ better physical shape. That was saying a lot considering Sylvain trained less than any other guy in the Blue Lions House and was in the middle half of _all_ the men in the houses combined for time logged training. As far as rankings were concerned, Dimitri used to come in behind Felix, who consistently held the top spot for logged training time: 24 hours over a five-day week.

Currently, Dimitri had been in the ring with Alois for thirty-four minutes, was on his thirteenth push-up, and struggling. “Alois…I need to…breathe…”

“Dimisri…” he slurred, “Sylvain, can do forty-sree push-ups and hold a plank for nearly tsen minutes! Keep going!” They hadn’t even begun any pull-ups of which Ingrid could school _all_ the boys. Ingrid made pull-ups look easy. She consistently topped out at twenty-seven. Her strength was incredible and of anyone who had pull-ups in their rotations, none of them could match her.

“I think we…need to start with something…I’m good at.” Dimitri said, collapsing to the floor, dastardly ashamed of himself.

“You aren’t good at much of anything right now. Come on! Nine more!” Alois ordered. This training session was interrupted by the sound of a large duffle hitting the floor.

“Alois. My apologies for being late. I can take over from here.” Alois spun around, nearly falling over. Dimitri’s eyes shot up from the floor. He was relieved and overjoyed. Dedue. After a four-month long mission, he had returned. He was quite dedicated as he had only taken one day off. After being told of Dimitri’s condition worsening after he had left, Dedue didn’t want to waste a moment to get his most trusted friend back on his feet. Dimitri got up from the floor and walked over to Dedue, who was quite surprised by Dimitri’s loss of definition and tone.

“Great to see you, Dedue!” Alois said, trying his best to articulate all the letters.

“As to you, Alois. I’ll take it from here.” He said, a hand on Dimitri’s shoulder. Alois nodded.

“Rodrigue’s orders.” Alois said, handing over a clipboard to Dedue. He glanced at the rigorous schedule, nodding his head.

“He certainly didn’t cut any corners, did he? Alright. Change of plans. It’s a beautiful morning and it’s not yet hot; therefore, we should run. Your Highness. Let’s go.” Dedue encouraged Dimitri. “I’ll tell you all about my mission while we run. Two easy miles.” Dimitri gave Dedue a ready smile, far more excited to spend time with Dedue than he was the miles. Alois was not disappointed that Dedue had taken over Dimitri’s training. This meant that he could go back to bed and nurse this hangover. Dedue walked Dimitri out of the training grounds into the emerging dawn. “Your Highness. It pleases me to see you, though I don’t like how weak you’ve become.”

“I’m sorry, Dedue. It’s just…” Dedue put his hands-on Dimitri’s shoulders.

“No excuses, just improvement. Yes?” Dedue asked. Dimitri shook his head. “Let’s go. Around the perimeter, out to the edge of town and back. We’ll take it at a slow jog. You set the pace.” Dedue gave Dimitri a rare smile as Dimitri nodded and exhaled deeply.

“Here goes…” he said, beginning slowly. “I find this all a huge embarrassment to my endurance.”

“No need to worry. You’ll get there. I’ll see to it myself.” Dedue assured him. Dedue was afortress in motion, 6’8” and 240 pounds. It was comical when the House worked on speed drills because that was Felix’s bread and butter. Catherine had carefully sculpted him to be lean and quick. Felix’s 144-pound frame got completely lost against Dedue. However, Dedue wasn’t fast nor could he perform any lateral slides. At one point, Dimitri could sort of do them but Dedue had a goal in mind. Though Dimitri likely wouldn’t come close to matching Felix’s seven-and-a-half-minute mile or his perfectly controlled lateral slides, Dedue was determined to eventually push Dimitri to a nine-minute mile.

“How was the mission?” Dimitri asked as the two rounded the outer edge of the sauna.

“It went quite well. I very much enjoy working with Annette and Ashe. They make a fantastic team.” Dedue shared.

“Ah, that’s nice to hear.” Dimitri puffed.

“And the professor? How is she?” Dedue asked, the pace Dimitri had set more than comfortable.

“I think she may be a bit put out with me. I haven’t been the kindest to her.” Dimitri admitted.

“I see. Well, I know this much…she would never give up on you.” Dedue encouraged. Dimitri smiled.

“Thanks for that!” Dimitri was starting to settle in to a stride, a stride he hadn’t felt in months.

* * *

The love given by an animal is pure and unconditional. Their chosen person would always be number one. Claude’s wyvern didn’t care where he had been or with whom he had exchanged saliva…among other things. That wyvern _loved_ him so much. It was evident in the way she went through at least twelve vocalizations of happiness when she was with Claude. One would never guess that she was the fiercest battle wyvern among the fleet. She had a big personality and she wasn’t afraid to show it.

“Isn’t it marvelous?” Seteth asked.

“What’s marvelous?” Shamir wondered, trying to juggle a bow in one hand and bow thread in another. “Hey! Stop! Stop jumping!” She scolded the emerald wyvern baby. “Sit! SIT! Hey! I said SIT!” She commanded. “There you go! Good! See? Look at you!” She praised the wyvern, throwing the materials aside and reaching for a bucket of fish scraps. “That’s a good girl!”

“And _that’s_ a good girl. Look at her. The way she interacts with Claude. She’s so very submissive.” Seteth said, in love with the sight before him.

“Yeah, well…that wouldn’t be the first time a…beautiful girl…has laid down and…put her head in Claude’s lap. That’s a…Tuesday afternoon for Claude…a slow one.” Shamir sighed and focused her attention back to the emerald wyvern. Seteth shook his head.

“She’s so content and so without fear. That’s true love, Shamir. You’re looking at true love.”

“Goddess, I’m so lucky. HEEEEEEY!” Shamir said sarcastically only to have the bucket of fish scraps flipped on her. “And I’m looking at pure disobedience. GET BACK HERE!” Shamir yelled at the wyvern running away from her. Seteth laughed.

“You like them.” He said. “The babies, you like them.”

“They are nothing but screaming, flapping nuisances.” Shamir said, picking up her bow supplies once again. “NOOOO! NO! Stay out of that!” Shamir dropped everything to chase after the wyvern baby who was about to destroy the hay bales intended for the horses. “Get over here! Shit! You’re getting…big!” She conversed, half scooping and half dragging the wyvern baby, who easily weighed in at 85 pounds. “Don’t look at me like that!” She hissed at Seteth. She sighed exasperatedly. “Okay, okay, I might…kind of like them…” Shamir’s thought was interrupted.

“C’mere! Give her to me.” Claude said, having appeared from the field. He clapped his hands at the wyvern who immediately shrieked and pattered toward him. Seteth laughed again. Seeing as Claude clearly had this situation under control, Seteth said his temporary goodbyes and took off for the monastery. He was to lead a seminar and wanted to freshen up before it began. Shamir gave Seteth a wave. She was quickly distracted with the wyvern who was affectionately purring at Claude. "I think I'm in love with her." he said, admiring the wyvern's green metallic scales.

“No! She’s my wyvern baby!” Shamir threatened.

“Awww, but look how sweet she is. I think she likes me more.” Claude said, as he knelt down to entertain her.

“See! This! Shit like this is _exactly_ why I’ve never been in a heterosexual relationship! It’s alllll fun and games until _you’re_ out fucking around and I’m stuck at home raising…your…wyvern babies!!! Damn it…CLAUDE!” Shamir reprimanded him, hitting his arm repeatedly.

“Hey now, hey. Seteth says you’ve done a great job with them. By the way, my wyvern ran straight for the mud today when I let her out. You didn’t let her play in it did you?” Claude asked.

“Oooooooh, I thought you said not to let her play in the pond. My fault.” Shamir raised her eyebrows.

“Shamir!” Claude exclaimed. She took a seat in the grass as Claude continued to pet the wyvern baby. He sat down beside her while the wyvern made herself comfortable. “They’re really beautiful, I can’t believe how big the ivory armored metallic is getting already. I bet he’s over 100 pounds.”

“I’m glad you’re pleased. Now, more important matters…” Shamir began reaching for her bow supplies to begin re-threading. “…tell me about you little disappearing act.”

“You know where I was.” Claude said.

“Yeah…tell me about it.” Shamir repeated. Claude smiled.

“Shamir, I never kiss and tell.”

“Right, well you fuck and don’t shut up. What’s your plan, Claude? I’m serious. You and the professor were gone for more than just a couple of short days. You better be careful. It’s going to get noticed. Is this…is this just sex with you two? I need to know what you’re after.” She hated it when Claude smiled the way he was at the moment. It could only mean one thing: he absolutely had a plan.

“You really want to know?” he asked, moving in closer to Shamir. He didn’t get far because the wyvern baby was half-asleep on him.

“At this point, I feel like it’s necessary.” She said. Claude leaned over further the best he could and cupped his hands around an imaginary object. He raised his hands and gingerly placed his imaginary, circular object on Shamir’s head. She glanced up, watching Claude’s motions.

“Ah, you look lovely.” Claude said, dreamily staring at the top of Shamir’s head. She raised her hands to her hair, convinced he had placed something atop her head.

“What the hell?” she asked, touching the sides of her head.

“I’m going to make Byleth the Queen of Almyra.” He whispered. Shamir swore she felt her heart stop for a moment. He was….he…he was going to make Byleth the what of who!?!?

“You…you… _what!?_ Claude….do you hear yourself?” It made Shamir a nervous wreck the way Claude calmly sat there and pet that sweet, sleeping wyvern. She didn’t care anything about this bow in her hand. “You…you can’t do that! You can’t, Claude! It’s completely _insane!_ ” Claude shrugged.

“What’s so insane about it?” he asked innocently.

“Um, let’s start with the fact that you’re _having an affair_ with the woman you want to make your queen! You can’t put….Byleth is…she’s supposed to…the professor knows _nothing_ about Almyra. All she knows of Almyra is you. She has no idea what the Almyran people need.” Shamir explained logically.

“Oh, and you’re saying I couldn’t teach her everything she needs to know?” Claude asked.

“You could teach _me_ all about Almyra but that doesn’t mean I know what it needs! It’s different, Claude! You were born there. She wasn’t. It’s like me trying to run House Gautier! I know _nothing_ about what the House Gautier, I know nothing about that part of the world. It gets extremely complicated. Besides, she…she’s supposed to be queen of Fódlan.” Shamir said, almost disappointedly. “This is too much. It’s one thing to just sleep with her but to…” Shamir shook her head. “Claude…she’s _not_ going to leave Dimitri.”

“What makes you so sure of that? I am able to give Byleth _more_ than what Dmitri has to offer. I can give her a fulfilled and uncomplicated life.” Claude promised. Shamir was worried. Was he really this delusional? Byleth was supposed to end up marrying Dimitri and joining him on the throne of Fódlan. She was _not_ supposed to be swept away to Almyra to re-unify the Almyrans. At least, in Shamir’s mind she already had it all worked out. Of course, it was true that Byleth and Dimitri were not engaged. Actually, they were probably light years from that point, if it happened at all. _Everything_ changes when you throw a cheating partner into the mix.

“Claude, no one comes out of an affair unscathed. You are…you’re going to get _very_ hurt and I can’t stay out of this and watch that happen to you. I…don’t agree with what you’re doing but, if she even has a choice…Byleth _won’t_ leave Dimitri.” Shamir said, her voice rather saddened. Claude continued to pet the wyvern as she slept peacefully. The two were silent for a moment as Claude watched his wyvern squawk and chatter with another in the distance.

“I know what would make her leave Dimitri.” He said, his eyes still fixated on the wyvern baby. Shamir _hated_ Claude’s stupid mischievous grin; so full of desire. This was one time that Shamir couldn’t read what was behind those intense green eyes. She waited, wanting Claude to finish his thought.

“What?” Shamir shook her head, fearful of Claude’s answer.

“Leaving some evidence…of she and I behind…” he said, not breaking eye contact with Shamir.


	13. Slow Hands

Sylvain had been cleared by Mercedes to resume all activity… _all_ of it. He was no longer taking any pain medications and he nearly had complete range of motion in his shoulder. It was impressive how quickly Ingrid could get Sylvain’s shirt off. Nothing turned him on more than Ingrid wearing his clothes and when Sylvain came back from his follow-up appointment to Ingrid laying on his bed reading her book and wearing _his_ shirt…her book suddenly became a very low priority. Ingrid hadn’t even heard Sylvain’s recap of his visit; she was too busy letting her tongue collide with his. At the way he took her in his arms, she could only assume that he had received good news.

“I need you _so_ badly. You know that, right?” Sylvain asked, breaking their kiss long enough to pull his shirt over Ingrid’s head. Not only was she wearing his shirt, she wasn’t wearing a damn thing underneath it. 

“You don’t need me as badly as I need to swallow your cock. Lay down.” Ingrid warned, putting her arms around Sylvain’s shoulders and pushing him down onto clean sheets. She was long overdue to leave Sylvain weak and begging for her. Ingrid straddled him, leaning forward to the point her naked chest was resting on his. Ingrid missed the feeling of Sylvain’s bare skin and even more, she missed the feeling of him…fully aroused and pressing into her. Sylvain drug his hand down Ingrid’s back, pressing her hips into his. He moaned into her lips, motioning her hips into him repeatedly. Ingrid breathily whimpered for Sylvain, burying her hand into soft, red layers. She reluctantly pulled her tongue away from his, kissing her way over his neck and easing down his chest. “Relax…” Ingrid said, as if Sylvain needed a reminder as she pulled his soft pants from his hips. Sylvain slightly tilted his head into the pillow beneath him at the sensation of Ingrid’s warm, wet mouth, sliding over a _very_ hard erection. He moaned into his hands as Ingrid lapped her tongue against him. Ingrid had talent. She could easily take Sylvain’s delicious cock past her gag reflex and leave him a wet mess. Ingrid could use her hand and her mouth in harmony with one another and Sylvain’s deep-throated breaths were all the affirmation she needed to keep going. She loved making a mess. The more of her saliva she left, the better it was. Ingrid made eye contact with Sylvain while running her tongue up the length of him and over the swollen tip. She adored the weakness in his voice and the way Sylvain begged for her without saying a word.

Ingrid hadn’t heard such filth escape Sylvain’s lips since before he was injured. She missed hearing how dirty Sylvain could get. She pulled her lips away from him, shedding her panties to the floor. Ingrid hadn’t even been able to test drive her most recent venture in contraception thanks to that damn short spear. “Hold on to me….” She demanded, reaching for Sylvain’s hands and moving them to her hips.

“Ooooh shit…Ingrid…” Sylvain mumbled at her only half coherently as he steadied her hips over him. Ingrid sunk down deeply. _This_ was Sylvain’s other weakness: Ingrid on top, her palms against his abdomen and rocking against him. She let a desperate cry escape her. Ingrid hadn’t expected to get _this_ hot _this_ fast. Sylvain was beyond turned on at the way she rode him with reckless abandon. She didn’t even care what Sylvain wanted in this moment….he didn’t particularly care either because he had never seen Ingrid come so hard or so fast. He adored the fact that the only thing that mattered in the moment was _her_ orgasm. Just watching her pleasure, herself on him, drove him out of his mind. And this time? His poor timing didn’t matter. Ingrid let her head fall backward as she adjusted her arms behind her, her hands smashing into Sylvain’s thighs.

Ingrid finally made eye contact, her weak and helpless eyes fixating on Sylvain’s. His pulse raced as he stared back at her. Even Sylvain hadn’t expected to come as quickly as he did. Their lovesick stare needed no words.

* * *

Felix and Dorothea sat across from the counselor; Felix unable to keep his hands still. Neither of them were thrilled about pre-marital counseling but since it was ordered by House Fraldarius, they may as well get it out of the way. The counselor glanced at his notes, shifted his focus to Felix, to Dorothea, and back to his notes. “I…haven’t seen either of you at…any services that I can recall. I don’t have any records from the clergy of either of you having been to confession in…well, ever.” The counselor said, looking up.

Felix and Dorothea glanced at each other. Were they supposed to answer this? Was it even a question?

“Well, um…we…you know…uh…” Felix began.

“We’ve been busy.” Dorothea answered, confidently, though that was no better than Felix’s response. No one was _that_ busy for seven months. The counselor shot eyes at both of them again.

“It’s not that we’re… _anti_ church or anything…” Felix laughed nervously. “…she…sings! Yes, she sings often…hymns. Hymns about the Goddess…Goddess hymns…. good stuff.” He nodded his head, nervously tapping Dorothea’s hand.

“Right…he’s right! I do sing. And…Felix came…to a …recital once.” Dorothea nodded as well, trying to convince the counselor that they weren’t all about burning in the eternal flames. The counselor flipped his page.

“Will your marriage include children?” the counselor asked, seemingly diving right into the heavy stuff. Felix looked to Dorothea before he answered.

“Yes.” She answered.

“And how many?” he pressed on.

“We’ve talked about two. We don’t desire a large family.” Felix followed.

“The first year of marriage is often considered the hardest on new couples. What anxieties do you have about living together?” the counselor asked. This would probably be a _really_ inopportune time to mention their current living arrangements. Dorothea shot eyes at Felix, hoping he would say…. something.

“When we move into our home, I do worry that the public will hound us. I think for me, my biggest concern is privacy. Goddess only knows there is very little of that _here.”_ That…maybe wasn’t the greatest answer.

“What do you mean there’s no privacy here?” the counselor questioned.

“He’s…referring to…how people are always coming and going here.” Dorothea added quickly. Felix nervously smiled and squeezed her hand.

“Yes! That. That's it.” He added. The counselor looked at Felix and Dorothea inquisitively.

“You two act very comfortable together. How do you think the role of Duke and Duchess will affect your marriage?” Dorothea glanced at Felix again.

“Well, I would think that we would treat the roles as a team. It’s essentially a business…a business of running a territory. If anything, the roles will strengthen our marriage. Shit…I mean…hell…I…” Dorothea sighed. “….what I’m trying to say is that Felix is an effective negotiator. He and I...together...negotiate very well.” Felix nodded.

“She’s right. Dee’s easy to work with…I’m…not…so much. She makes me see the greater picture. I don’t see how being Duke and Duchess would _hurt_ our marriage.” The counselor seemed satisfied with those responses.

“You…” he directed his attention toward Dorothea. Felix didn’t much care for the counselor’s directive.

“She has a name…Dorothea.” Sure, correct your counselor twenty minutes into your first session.

“Dorothea…” he began, “…are you fully prepared to submit to your husband once married? A good wife is submissive.”

“Um…” Dorothea started to answer but Felix got carried away instead.

“That’s bullshit! A good wife isn’t submissive.” Felix corrected him.

“I am fully prepared...to be a good wife, a good mother, and a good Duchess.” Dorothea leaned in toward the counselor. “In order for me to be good at those things, I must take my stand. Submission isn't the answer” she insisted.

“I’m…really going to have to ask you both to watch your language. We are in the presence of the Goddess.

“We’re in this little room off the cathedral. I _highly_ doubt she’s in here listening to your bullshit ideals about how a woman is supposed do whatever the _fuck_ her husband wants her to do without question. Now, I think you’re projecting your own values on _us_. Well, let me tell you something about House Fraldarius. My _mother_ fucking runs it. She didn’t sit around and passively take orders when she married my dad…. she _gave_ them. Her ability to hold her own was one of the reasons my dad married her! And that’s why I love this woman. Don’t _you_ hijack this counseling to fit your agenda. We are _required_ to do this. You can make is really easy, or really fucking difficult to show up each week.” Felix sat back and sighed. He crossed his arms and shot sideways eyes at Dorothea. “I’m sorry…” he took her hand in his.

“No, no…it’s…really, it’s fine. I think he has better handle on…us…” Dorothea said. The counselor flipped his page.

“O….kay….we can agree to….have differing views…on a roles…within a marriage.” He cleared his throat. “As part of the pre-marital protocol….I….have to ask…if…the two of you have questions or concerns about consummating your marriage.” Oooooooooh boy……Dorothea looked at Felix with wide eyes. She cleared her throat.

“No more concerns or…questions than any other…virgin couple…would have.” Dorothea said as convincingly as she could. Felix nodded.

“Yes, yes, she’s right. We…are…a virgin couple. Naturally, we're...nervous...but ya' know. Who isn't?” Felix answered nervously. Swearing, lying, almost going off on your counselor…what a way to start pre-marital bliss.

* * *

Petra was very nervous. She had chain-smoked frantically. She was excited and terrified but this room looked absolutely beautiful. Hubert pulled out _all_ the stops. Who would have thought he was so romantic? His room was filled with the soft glint of candles. He had at least twenty of them, all different and so meticulously placed. The smell of gentle, vanilla incense filled the empty spaces and the red roses? Petra had never seen that many ornate and finely crafted vases of varying sizes. Hubert had them tastefully placed all around his room. It was hard _not_ to be completely seduced. Seeing how warm and inviting he had made this space made Petra ease a little. However, she couldn’t smoke in here…and that made her nervous again.

Even Hubert himself was sensual and…comfortable and handsomely clad in a most luxurious black velvet robe. Hubert never gave off the aura of the kind of man whose arms you’d want around you. Right now? He was exactly that man. “Petra…” he extended his hand to her, offering up the reddest wine that matched the very ambience of this room. _Yes!_ She couldn’t smoke but not only was this gesture thoughtful, she needed this red wine. And Edelgard? She looked _beautiful._ Not just your everyday, delicate, doe-eyed woman beautiful…but radiant and tempting. Petra was ready to tear into Edelgard and she hadn’t even taken a sip.

“Um…thank you.” Petra said, doing her best to hide her inexperience. She wondered if Hubert knew anything about what Petra and Edelgard had been up to for the past few months. It didn't matter right now because Hubert poured a glass on wine for Edelgard, handing it over.

“My ladies, I have another bottle.” He so elegantly raised his glass. He looked to Edelgard and then to Petra. “To both of you...beautiful...sexy...and everything I could imagine.” he said with a sincere smile, tinking the edge of his glass into theirs. Petra eyed Edelgard over her glass as she took a much larger than anticipated gulp. “Petra, Edelgard says you’ve never been with a man.” He said, sitting on the edge of the bed. Petra shook her head.

“No…” she answered without any elaboration. Hubert gave her a most reassuring gaze.

“So, what are the parameters this evening?” he asked. Petra looked to Edelgard, hoping she would take over from here.

“You can’t fuck her…but she can fuck me.” Edelgard said, allowing her satin, burgundy robe to slip off her shoulders.

“Actually…” Petra chimed in, taking an even bigger drink of wine. “I…changed my mind…” Edelgard’s face lit up as she exchanged a smile with Hubert.

“A wise choice.” She praised Petra.

This was becoming a reality as Petra felt Hubert loosen the laces of her corset. She glanced at Edelgard and then to Hubert. Edelgard tilted her head toward Hubert. Was it supposed to be some unspoken cue? Was this Edelgard’s way of saying ‘you took me, now take my boyfriend’? Petra felt like she needed to down the rest of her wine… _now._ She made it disappear in an impressive glug. She sat the glass aside, exhaled and helped Hubert slide her corset to the floor. She peered into his soft, visible eye, his dark hair falling so gracefully against his face. Petra had _no_ desire toward him whatsoever….yet his mere presence was overpowering. Edelgard stepped up behind Hubert and pulled his robe off his shoulders, wrapping her arms around him and making eye contact with Petra.

“Taste his lips at least…and then you can have mine.” Edelgard encouraged. Hubert reached tender fingertips to Petra’s face, lightly grazing her cheek.

“Tell me to stop…if you don’t like it.” Hubert said softly, leaning in and kissing her wine-saturated lips. Petra gasped through closed lips at the feeling of Hubert’s soft kiss. She wasn’t particularly aroused by him, but she wasn’t repulsed. She didn’t kiss back but didn’t resist him. Hubert pulled his lips away and gazed at her expression.

“Lay down, Hubert.” Edelgard ordered, allowing her clothes to fall to the floor. Hubert did the same and followed Edelgard’s directives.

“Petra…” he called to her, extending his palm. “…try taking some of those clothes off.” She nodded apprehensively, though also eager to see where this would lead. Once she too, had disrobed, she took Hubert’s hand and he pulled her to the edge of his bed, letting his hand caress soft skin. He slipped his hand around her waist admiring the native marks of Bridgid on her body, the soft candle illuminating her. “Now… _you_ kiss me…” he said, pulling her body down toward him. “Edelgard?” Hubert questioned. She smirked.

“I know what to do…” she said confidently, laying herself over Hubert’s naked abdomen. Petra was grateful that Edelgard did the heavy lifting. She wasn’t sure that she was ready to suck Hubert’s cock…yet. At least, not until she could kiss him with a little but more confidence. Petra trusted herself, kissing Hubert more assertively. He moaned against her at the feeling Edelgard’s mouth on him. Petra felt herself relax into Hubert’s lips, relieved by the fact that Edelgard had him distracted from her kiss.

Hubert pulled his lips away from Petra’s for only a moment. “Let me taste you…” he said softly, as Edelgard tasted him. Petra felt pleasantly shocked. Did he…mean what she thought he meant? “Come now…straddle my shoulders.” Hubert encouraged her. Petra watched Hubert’s slow hand reach toward her thigh, motioning her closer with light fingertips. Petra proceeded to straddle Hubert’s shoulders. He pushed on her thighs, wanting her to ease into her stance and relax. A man had _never_ done this before. She had already assumed he would have no idea what he was……ooooooooooh shit……he knew _exactly_ what he was going. Petra gasped, having gotten _much_ more than which she bargained. Hubert wasn’t shy about pushing Petra’s hips into him closer. She moaned and sunk deeper into her hips as she unexpectedly felt a hand on her shoulder. Edelgard decided that Petra was having too much fun and Edelgard was missing out. She sunk her lips into Petra’s neck, kissing her way toward her jaw until her lips met Petra’s.

“Hubert…” Edelgard called, breaking her kiss with Petra, shifting plum hair from Petra’s shoulders. He made eye contact with Edelgard, her cunning smile irresistible. “Trade me places…” He reluctantly pulled his lips away from Petra, having barely warmed her up. 

"Not yet, dearest. Petra, lie down." He coaxed her. Hell, at this point Petra would have done anything Hubert asked. She laid back and spread her legs to him, not even half-way trying to hide herself. "That's beautiful. Now, Edelgard...Petra's going to have a taste of you." Edelgard smiled and repositioned herself near Petra's head, her palm in Petra's hair so comforting. Petra's body ignited. She started recalling the threesome she had years prior in Brigid and how electrifying it had been. She threw all her inhibition to the wind Tonight would be her first and last time with a man.

* * *

“Aim high. Shoot the next arrow straight up and she’ll go after it.” Seteth coached. Shamir aimed her bow into the sky. Of the three wyvern babies, the emerald was closest to showing interest in flight. Most wyverns didn’t fly until they were at least six months old: they were almost three months. Currently, the ivory weighed 115 pounds, the emerald, 100 pounds and the bronze, the ‘runt’, 80 pounds. Their personalities had become quite distinct. The ivory was most like momma wyvern. He was ornery, playful, bright and oh so sweet tempered. The emerald was nosy, into _everything_ and quite protective of anyone or anything she liked. And the bronze, the love-bug of the three. She wanted to snuggle anything that would allow her to share their space. Wyverns tended to gravitate toward a gender though many didn’t truly mind to whom they bonded. The bronze baby loved Seteth, the ivory and emerald gravitated toward Catherine and Shamir…driving them crazy for attention.

“Shit…sorry…that was too low.” Shamir said, sighing. The emerald went chasing after her arrow none the less, outstretching her wings but not taking flight. She looked so awkward as she half-waddled-half ran toward Shamir’s arrow.

“You act like something’s on your mind today.” Seteth observed.

“Eeeh, I’m okay.” Shamir said, smiling as the wyven let out a ‘mreeeeeerrr-aack, ack, ack, ack!’ and hustling back toward Shamir with her arrow.

“That wasn’t convincing…at all.” Seteth said. “Wait…are you pissed at me because I asked so many questions about Catherine as a lover?”

“What!? No! I _love_ answering questions about what Catherine and I do behind closed doors! Besides, I don’t think I could ever be mad at you for anything.” Shamir or Catherine never intended on becoming so close with Seteth. However, that was one of the positive things that had come out of Shamir’s caring for Claude’s three illegitimate wyvern babies.

“Ah. Good. You have my thanks. If that’s not it what _is_ on your mind?” Shamir praised the wyvern, giving her a pat and prepared another arrow. She released it much higher into the air and the wyvern took off screaming. She allowed her arms to go limp.

“What if….what if I told you I had information about…something…that I was keeping quiet about. But now I have _more_ information…about the thing…and I’m not sure how much longer I _should_ stay quiet about it.” Seteth was most certainly intrigued.

“Go on…” he encouraged. Shamir took a deep breath.

“Okay…what I’m about to share with you cannot be repeated. I’m serious Seteth, you can tell _no one_ about this.” Shamir said seriously. Seteth shook his head, not breaking eye contact with Shamir.

“You have my word.” He said.

“Alright…so, it’s like this…Claude is sleeping with the professor…don’t react…he wants to make her the Queen of Almyra…don’t react…he… _might_ try to trap her into having his baby…” Shamir paused. “…react…” she said. Seteth stared at Shamir, mouth agape. That was a _lot_ of information to digest in seven seconds.

“Goddess help us all…” Seteth muttered. “Shamir, are you serious? How long has…what about Dimitri!?”

“Yes! Yes, what about Dimitri?” Shamir asked.

“You need to tell him! You can’t sit on this information.” He insisted.

“See!? _That’s_ what I’ve been thinking! But…I…I can’t _not_ protect Claude. I don’t agree with it. I think he’s delusional. I think he’s going to get _extremely_ hurt in all this.” Shamir shook her head. “I swear, Seteth…if he gets Byleth _pregnant_ …” She threw her hands out to the side, fist around her bow and preparing to praise the wyvern again. She aimed into the sky before firing into the distance once more. “…I don’t even know how to finish that thought.”

“Which is why you have to say something before that happens.” Seteth cautioned.

“Claude has been with her _multiple_ times. Who’s to say she’s not pregnant right now. _Think_ about that.”

“Seiros have mercy…” Seteth muttered, placing his fingers over his heart.

“Yeah…so this is what I’ve been dealing with.” Shamir said, dropping her bow to the ground. “Seriously, I mean, what are the odds that _one_ woman has this kind of offer? Goddess! What is it about Byleth that makes two men say, ‘I’m going to give that woman a kingdom!?’ Catherine barely offers me the bottom of the bag of apple chips that she gets at the market…and fucking…Byleth gets her _pick_ of Faerghus or Almyra!?” Shamir ranted.

“You’re forgetting one _very_ important detail. Dimitri is conservative, or so he seems. Do you _really_ think he will settle for a whore Queen?”

“Nooo, Seteth. No. Don’t…call her that. That’s not what this is about…it is…but…it’s not.” Shamir said. “Besides, she’s slept with Dimitri… _a lot_. You fuck the future king; the whore clause becomes null and void.” Seteth couldn’t disagree.

“You’re right. You’re exactly right. What about the illegitimate child clause?” Seteth asked as the wyvern baby cooed fawned over him, her happy, bright eyes focused on his hand softly landing on the top of her head. Shamir laughed nervously.

“With Seiros as my witness, if Claude makes that mess, he’s cleaning it up; not me.” Shamir said, as the wyvern left Seteth alone only to gently ram her head into Shamir.

Seteh’s mind was working in overdrive. “Do you think Mercedes could be convinced to find a reason to give Byleth a pregnancy test?”

“That. That is why I keep you around, Seteth.” She answered.

“You don’t keep me around. You started hanging out with me because Claude strong-armed you into wyvern care.” Seteth laughed.

“Look. You’re not wrong about that. And _that’s_ another thing that worries me.” She said, picking up her bow and lose arrows before the wyvern baby decided to chew on them.

“Keeping me around?” he asked.

“No. How dangerously convincing Claude can be.”

* * *

Byleth shoved her key into the locked door, pushing it open and letting out a half scream-half gasp. She had not expected the sight before her in Claude’s penthouse: a woman, quite obviously from Almyra, brushing a little girls’ hair on Claude’s ivory couch. “Oh! My Goddess!” Byleth exclaimed, dropping the bag in her hand and putting her palm over her heart. The woman stood up, just as surprised as Byleth was. She gasped, startling the little girl.

“Goddess!” the woman repeated. “I’m so sorry! I’m sorry! I…I didn’t think you would be here for another hour! I’m sorry!” the woman frantically babbled, hustling the little girl off the couch.

“No! No! No! It’s…. it’s fine…it’s…who are you!?” Byleth asked, her eyes still widened in shock. How the hell did this woman know about...it didn't matter right now. The woman scurried over to the front door where Byleth stood, putting her hand on the little girls' shoulders and pulling her against her thigh. 

“My name is Sharmayne…you may call me Shar. I’m Claude’s housekeeper. This…this is my daughter…Priscilla.” She said, bowing her head and extending a hand to Byleth. Byleth had no idea what to make of this information. Her heart pounded because she wondered if this were Claude’s housekeeper or his ‘housekeeper’ and if _that_ were Claude’s child. Although, if this _were_ actually Claude’s housekeeper, it would certainly explain why this penthouse was always spotless, fully stocked, and the plants consistently watered. Byleth reached out and gave the woman a nervous handshake. “I’m sorry…” she repeated, “My daughter and I will get our things ready and be out of your way.” She said, preparing to rush off.

“Wait….wait, please…wait. I’m…confused…how…how did you know…of my arrival? What do you…”

“Come. Sit for a moment. Priscilla!” the woman hissed at her daughter, shooting her eyes between Byleth and the little girl.

“Hello!” she greeted Byleth, her eyes bright with excitement. Byleth was in awe of the girl. She didn't mean to stare, it was just...the girl looked _so_ much like...

“Hi…is…is she…Claude’s?” Byleth asked, immediately regretting it. “I’m sorry…that just came out.” Byleth hid her face in embarrassment. Sharmayne laughed, the girl giggled as well.

“Oh Goddess, no! Please, come sit. Allow me to explain.” The woman said, coercing Byleth to the couch. Byleth watched the little girl’s eyes follow her. She seemed fascinated at Byleth's presence. “Priscilla? Please go get your things ready, yes?” Sharmayne said softly. The girl nodded and took off, though still curious...she wasn’t the only curious one in Claude’s penthouse. Sharmayne examined Byleth. “Awww…” she sighed. “Such smooth and minty hair. Claude was right. You are a very beautiful woman.” 

“Claude’s…told _you_ about me?” Byleth asked, not intending for her tone to sound so accusatory. “I’m sorry…again…I didn’t mean it like…never mind, you talk. I’ll listen.” Byleth said nervously.

“Please forgive Claude. He has told me some things about you. I live here when Claude isn’t. I keep things clean and I always ensure groceries are purchased before he’s here. He gives me a list and I take care of things for him. I am…very much indebted to Claude. Without him, Priscilla and I would be on the streets. I met Claude when I…I was forced to beg for money to survive each day. He was the only person to stop and talk to me. He gave me quite a bit of money and he offered me a job, cleaning. We became fast friends and Claude has been so very kind to Priscilla." Sharmayne laughed. "I know she certainly favors Claude. When he takes her to market to teach her about buying and selling people are completely convinced she's his." 

Shamayne thought it endearing but Byleth was still completely freaked out about this seemingly secret life Claude had on the side. "Priscilla's father is from Enbarr. I was working as a maid in a wealthy house there. Because of my time there, I was able to receive an education. I've taught Claude a lot about the Empire and brought him, many books that have been banned here in this part of the country. Claude gives Priscilla and I a place to stay. And you….” Sharmayne smiled. “Claude says that you are something quite special.” Byleth was utterly perplexed by all of this information.

“Wait…so, you really _are_ Claude’s housekeeper.” Byleth stated.

“I am.” Sharmayne answered with a nod. She laughed. "You seem so…rattled. Why is that?” Byleth smiled.

“I’m sorry…I’m very sorry. It’s just…I…you’re _here_ and…I’m…. _here_ and I just…you’re going to leave on account of… _me_. I am the _reason_ you and your daughter are without a roof over…” Byleth was cut off by Sharmayne’s hand over hers.

“Please. Take a _deep_ breath. Relax. It’s okay. Just a bit ago, I put some Chamomile tea on for you and Claude. I think it best you have some. I don’t want you to be nervous on my account.” Sharmayne stood up to retrieve the tea. Rattled was an understatement. All she could think about was the fact that this woman knew she was… _Claude’s whore._ Shit. This had all been justifiable in Byleth’s mind until she was faced with this reality that Sharmayne may know about her...and Dimitri and the fact that Byleth was the elegant fixture in Claude's life. To make matters worse, Byleth couldn’t stomach the guilt that her very presence forced this beautiful woman and her daughter out into the….to where!? Where the hell did she go for _days at a time_ when Byleth was…. Sharmayne was right: Byleth needed to relax. She exhaled heavily and leaned back into the soft couch behind her, though that feeling of relaxation evaded her.

Sharmayne walked back to the sunken living room where Byleth sat, placing the tea tray on the table before the couch. “Here. It’s hot. It hasn’t been on long.”

“Thank you.” Byleth said, taking the tea offering. It was so warm and delightful. Sharmayne watched Byleth’s hand shake as she took a drink. “Where…do you go when…Claude is here with...me?”

“There’s an inn only a few blocks away. It’s owned by an Almyran couple. They don’t mind at all when Pricilla and I stay. They offer a room to us whenever we need it.” She calmly explained. It didn’t make Byleth feel any more contented. There was a huge part of her that was absolutely embarrassed because this woman was well aware what was happening in this penthouse.

“So, you mentioned the Empire and Enbarr. Why did you leave? What...about….your daughter’s father?” Sharmayne took a long drink of tea.

“I went to the Empire for a better life…and it was a better life. I learned a lot there. Almyran women can easily find work in the Empire. I was there for three years and then…well… I won’t go into…details but I became pregnant by a very well-to-do man in the Empire. I lost my job and so I left Enbarr and began to travel toward the Alliance. I found refuge in a church near the alliance border. Priscilla was born there.” Sharmayne smiled warmly. “She’s now seven. She is the greatest gift. I cannot imagine my life without her. She is nothing but a blessing, though she was...unintended by her father. I am so proud…so lucky to be her mother. There are many women throughout Fódlan with stories like mine, but most are not as lucky.”

Byleth was speechless. She felt… _so_ selfish. This woman had been oppressed, used, discriminated against _and_ raised a child among the streets yet she still managed to smile with nothing but happiness and hope in her eyes. Byleth felt like a fool because this woman had endured _real_ hardship. This chance meeting may have been the wakeup call that Byleth needed.

She felt compelled to use Sharmayne’s story and find the other Almyran women living in Fódlan under similar circumstances. She had to give these women a voice. Dimitri. Dimitri could make a difference once he took the throne. Byleth had to tell him. Except…. shit. It wasn't like she could rush to Dimitri and tell him about this. Byleth had certainly gotten herself into an even messier situation than she had originally created.

Priscilla gingerly snuck her head around the wall. “I can see you, Priscilla! Come on now, come introduce yourself properly.” Her mother encouraged. The little girl smiled and revealed herself; just as radiant as her mother. Byleth smiled, feeling an unfamiliar emotion overcome her. This child was _so_ striking and so pure. Like Claude, she had been filtered through Fódlan and even her long, wavy hair was the same deep brown as Claude’s; not the black/brown of her mother.

“I’m Priscilla, nice to meet you.” the little girl beamed, giving Byleth her best curtsy. Byleth could feel a lump in her throat. A deluge rushed toward her trembling lips. She was attempting to process a hundred different emotions. Sharmayne laughed.

“She learned that from Claude.”

“You’re pretty.” Priscilla said, her smile lighting up her face. Byleth wiped her eyes and laughed.

“Thank you, Priscilla. You are too, sweetheart…you are too.” She said, her voice shaking and cracking slightly. Sharmayne motioned her daughter toward her, putting her arms around her waist.

“Go finish your reading Claude told you to do, okay? I think you can finish the chapter. We’ll be leaving soon.” She kissed the girl’s temple before she took off once more to do as she was told. Sharmayne smiled again, picking up her tea. Byleth had to take another drink, if for no other reason to keep from bursting into tears. “That’s my princess.” Sharmayne sighed and picked up her tea. She waited until Priscilla was out of earshot. “Now…most importantly. You’ve made love to Claude. You like it, yes? No man from Faerghus compares to an Almyran man am I right?” So much for the lump in her throat. Byleth was about to choke on her tea. She coughed and patted her chest repeatedly.

“Um…” she cleared her throat. How exactly was she supposed to respond to this question!? The quick answer was yes. Claude was…beyond words, really, and he was only _half_ Almyran. Byleth could tell Sharmayne some very steamy tales of she and Dimitri but there was no way Sharmayne would take them even a little seriously because anything Byleth had ever done with Dimitri had been eclipsed by _everything_ she had done with Claude. Byleth smiled nervously, her face turning pink. She hid her growing smile with her palm.

“Oooooh, that look says everything!” Sharmayne laughed, watching Byleth’s face turn redder. “You don't have to tell me details. I understand. So...you and Claude. Are you prepared to be his queen? You would make a beautiful Almyran Queen.” Byleth immediately looked up from her hand, making eye contact with Sharmayne.

“I…I what?” she asked, not quite sure what she had just heard.

“Yes! You'll marry Claude, right? And you will be crowned Queen of Almyra.” Sharmayne explained.

“I…I can’t be queen of Almyra…I’m going to be queen of Faerghus.” Byleth blurted out without thinking. Sharmayne certainly had a way of making Byleth blurt a lot of things. She shook her head, obviously confused.

“Que…queen of…Faerghus? I’m sorry, I’m confused. Please explain…” Sharmayne said, picking up her tea once again. Byleth’s mouth hung open but no words came out. Her lips formed something, but her thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the front door. Claude’s intoxicating smile could derail anyone’s train of thought.


	14. Love is a Battlefield

It was impressive, really. The way she could dive headfirst into all that buttercream and not come up for air. Dorothea and Ingrid stared at her from across the table. They didn’t even have a chance to confront Lysithea about the ‘I’m Sorry’ that was written on the cake in buttercream….she had already devoured half of it. However, if they were to take an educated guess, they would bet that this cake had something to do with Lorenz and the fact that, he, though noble and…something else positive….probably did something very stupid: like being a complete deadbeat….whatever…to Lysithea. Dorothea hadn’t decided if she and Lorenz were just friends, friends with benefits, more than that, or none of that. But shit…that cake!

“I think wolves do this in the wild. Her face is…it’s _covered_ in buttercream.” Ingrid said, leaning over to Dorothea.

“Look at her go. She’s like a machine. I’m scared to ask what Lorenz did because she might bite my head off for interrupting the cake.”

“She’s punched you in the face! If it weren’t for all she did for Sylvain we would probably still hate her. Ask…” Ingrid encouraged. Dorothea nodded.

“Um…Lysithea? What did Lorenz do….that made him get you cake?” Lysithea shot her eyes up from the fluffy vanilla cake and shook her head, taking a moment to wipe away all the stray buttercream.

“It’s not what he did…it’s what he didn’t do…what he said about it.” She said. Ingrid and Dorothea exchanged confused glances.

“What he said about… _what_?” Ingrid asked. Lysithea took a deep breath and sighed, temporarily shoving her cake aside but watching to make sure it didn’t disappear.

“Lorenz had the nerve to tell me _it_ wasn’t pretty! He said it looked like a sad, wilting flower and _that’s_ why he wouldn’t go down on it!” Lysithea said softly.

“What’s it!?” Dorothea half whispered.

“ _IT!!!”_ Lysithea re-iterated, pointing between her legs, her eyes wide. She wasn’t dare going to say words like vagina with her cake. Ingrid and Dorothea’s collective reaction was indicative that this clearly was not how they expected this conversation to go.

“Whoa….whoa…you mean to tell me that _Lorenz_ had _that_ reaction…to your beautiful, naked... womanhood?” Ingrid asked, having an eloquent way with her words.

“Yes!!” Lysithea said, still pissed at Lorenz…but loving the apology cake.

“That’s bullshit. No hot-blooded man is going to have _that_ reaction. Now, I’ve not…been to the territory…but I know it’s lovely. Fucking Lorenz…Lysithea….you want me to mess ‘im up for you?” Dorothea asked, seriously. Ingrid laughed.

“Oh shit…You sound _exactly_ like Felix when you say that.” Ingrid shook her head.

“I know…” Dorothea mumbled, pushing her fingertips into her eyebrows.

“What!? No! I just…what the _hell_ is wrong with him!? Does that happen like…you know…when you’re about to fool around?”

“Lysithea…” Ingrid began with a sigh, pulling the cake toward her and stabbing her fork into the side, much to Lysithea’s horror. “Relax…I’ll get you more.” She took a bite, pleasantly surprised at the contrast of the vanilla and buttercream. “Do you have _any_ idea how much pussy Sylvain has been through before me? I won’t talk numbers but I’ll say this…a lot...it's a lot.”

“Ingrid! It’s 10:30 in the morning! You can’t say…” Ingrid interrupted Lysithea, pointing her fork.

“If I can’t say pussy at 10:30 then you can’t handle what I was panting at 7:30 this morning and that... is the problem. My point being, Lysithea, is that Sylvain has tried all that the buffet has to offer…and he’s never rejected any of it. The problem is Lorenz…not you.”

“You’ve _already_ had sex today!?” Lysithea whispered, grabbing the table. Ingrid nodded, taking more of the cake.

“I could barely touch Sylvain for like…three weeks or something!! I’m…making up for lost time.” Ingrid nodded. “Besides…it _really_ helps the headaches from that damn shot.” Dorothea nodded in agreement.

“Lysithea, there is _nothing_ better in this world than morning…” Lysithea thudded her head against the table.

“Dooooon’t say it! My poor ears can’t take it! Just…tell me what to do about this.” Lysithea raised her head up.

“Have you ever gone down on Lorenz?” Dorothea asked, only for Lysithea to turn beet red. Her eyes nearly popped from her head.

“Oooh that’s a yes.” Dorothea said.

“That’s a yes…” Ingrid repeated.

“Easy fix, Lysithea. There’s this amazing word and that word is: Withhold. You don’t go _near_ his belt until he cleans up his act. You look him dead in the eye and you say ‘Lorenz, you have a sad, shriveled up excuse of a cock’ and just wait for the reaction.” Dorothea coached her. Lysithea was mortified.

“Have you…. _done this_!?” she asked. Dorothea laughed.

“What!? Oh, Goddess no…Felix’s cock is… _perfect_. And he's never once been turned off by _anything_ I have to offer.” Dorothea said softly. After Lysithea swallowed the initial shock of this conversation, she took a deep breath and clenched her fists.

“Alright…alright, I’ll do it! And while I’m at it, I’m going to tell him to pull that damn hair back!” Lysithea said, feeling empowered.

“Yes! That’s it!” Ingrid encouraged her.

“ _And_ I’m going to tell him that he can take his damn tea and shove it up his ass if he doesn’t get on his knees and tell me that my naked, ripened form is the most _beautiful fucking thing_ he’s ever seen! Eeeeerrrrgrggggghhhh!!!!!” Lystithea jammed her fork into his stupid, delicious cake. Ingrid and Dorothea laughed. Throught their laughter, they couldn’t help but notice something…different about Lysithea. Her skin was pale and her hair appeared dry. She appeared....tired, perhaps? sleep deprived? Obviously it wasn't on Lorenz's account.

“I love _and_ fear the fact that you are a fuckin’ ball of rage when you want to be.” Ingrid said. Lysithea started in on Lysithea's cake again, as Ingrid slid her chair out from the table. “Okay girls, I gotta’ go…I’m supposed to be on the back of a damn Pegasus in under an hour.”

“Oh! How’s that going?” Dorothea asked.

“Shitty. The pegasus hates me. I hate it. Gilbert makes me nervous. Thank Goddess Sylvain will be there with me today to calm me down. In fact, he’s probably getting her saddled up now.”

“Can I…walk with you?” Dorothea asked. Ingrid nodded. “Lysithea….don’t get sick on that cake, you hear?” Dorothea said, pushing her chair out with Ingrid. Lysithea shook her head, her mouth crammed full of cake.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to just up and leave her like that but…I _really_ need to talk to you about something, well…ask you something.”

“Yeah, okay.” Dorothea glanced at Ingrid as they walked out of the dining hall. She sighed nervously. Actually, Ingrid had missed a lot because she had been spending a _lot_ of time under Sylvain.

“Okay…um…so…right before Sylvain got injured…Felix and I had this talk and…we…we’re….getting married.” That stopped Ingrid in her tracks.

“What!?!?” Ingrid couldn’t hide her enormous smile.

“Yeah….we….” Dorothea was interrupted by Ingrid lunging toward her.

“Dorothea!!!!” she squeaked, throwing her arms around her friend. “Damn it! I _knew_ I should have tuned into something besides Sylvain for the past month!”

“No! No, you were where you needed to be. All you’ve missed is the fact that Felix and I are in pre-marital counseling.”

“Ooooooh, pre-marital counseling. My House requires that kind of thing. Oh Goddess! Have you…started it? How the _hell_ did that go?” Ingrid said, worried.

“The only thing that could have made it worse would have been if you were in the back of the room dragging your fingernails over the chalkboard. I think the counselor hates Felix and I as much as you hate the Pegasus.”

“Understood. Shit. How did _Felix_ handle it?”

“He did better than I thought he would. But ya’ know? There was something oddly arousing about counseling…he _fucked_ me senseless after that session. I _really_ hope that happens after our next session.” Ingrid nodded.

“I get that. It's something about the non-sex vibe the cathedral gives off isn't it? Sylvain and I had _really_ hot sex after one of Sunday devotions.” Dorothea laughed.

“And _that_ is the exact reason why I need to ask you this next question. So, Felix hasn’t technically proposed to me yet. We have to get all this other stuff out of the way so there’s no date set. But…Ingrid…I need to know if you’ll stand up there with me. Will you be in our wedding? Felix is going to ask Sylvain too but don’t tell him.”

Ingrid squeaked again and put her hands over her mouth. “Oh Goddess!!! You want me to stand up there with you on your wedding day!? Dorothea! Oh! You’re going to make me cry before I get on this dumb Pegasus! Yes! Yes, of course! I’d be honored to do that! And, I’ll help with anything you need! Just tell me, okay?” Dorothea smiled.

“Okay, okay I will. This…this will be great.” Dorothea promised.

“I can’t tell you how excited I am that you’re going to marry Felix. But for now, say a prayer for me that I don’t kill this Pegasus today.” Ingrid rolled her eyes.

“You’ll be fine. Sylvain’s got your back.” Dorothea reassured her.

“He sure as hell better! I’ll catch up with you later.” Ingrid said, parting ways with Dorothea.

* * *

There was no sexier sight than that of Ferdinand brushing down his horse with a curry comb surrounded by a litter of eight-week-old Aegir Hound pups…well…that’s what Mercedes thought. The humid day had given way to a brilliant sunset. The horses had all been fed and were happily ready to retreat to the stable for the night.

“Hh...Hi, Ferdinand!” Mercedes smiled sweetly, enamored by the sight of him, with her hands behind her back. She had just finished her shift and the only thing she had on her mind was...she couldn't really say it out loud. Ferdinand was overjoyed to see her. He hadn’t expected Mercedes to be finished with her shift until 10:00. “I…I hope you don’t mind my coming out here.”

“No! Not at all! Of course not! I’m so happy you did!” Ferdinand exclaimed, giving his horse one more brush and sitting his comb aside. “Here! Sit.” He said, patting the horse’s shiny coat and sitting on the nearby bale of hay. Mercedes smiled and revealed her hands before sitting beside Ferdinand: she had a small box, the size of an envelope.

“I just…I wanted to bring you this.” She said, sitting beside him as the puppies whimpered and rushed toward Ferdinand with little wagging tails. Mercedes was overjoyed at the sight of the four of them. Aegir Hounds typically had litters of six to eight. This was a small litter, only four…three boys and a girl. “Oh my! Where did these puppies come from!? They’re adorable!

“They tend to stay here in the barn. They don’t stray far. The mother is around here somewhere. Here!” Ferdinand laid the box aside on the hay and reached down to grab one of the pups. “You hold on to him.” Mercedes laughed and tried her best to calm the excited puppy in her lap who wanted to be in her face and receive all of her affection.

“Awww, he’s a doll!” Mercedes cooed.

“So, what’s this?” Ferdinand asked, examining the box Mercedes had given him. She smiled.

“Go ahead! Open it.” She encouraged him as the other puppies begged for her attention. Ferdinand pulled the cord holding the box together apart and the lid easily came off. Ferdinand gasped. He pulled the square, folded fabric from the box and admired the superb needlework in the corner: FVA. Ferdinand could tell by the attention to detail that Mercedes made this handkerchief herself. He was overwhelmed at the sincerity and kindness.

“Mercedes…” he began, unfolding the fine fabric to its extent. “…it’s beautiful! And the colors!” Mercedes had been fortunate to find some finely spun, white cotton bolts of fabric. She had trimmed it down to handkerchief size. It would easily fit within the inner pocket of Ferdinand’s jacket. She edged it in navy blue satin and embroidered Ferdinand’s initials into the corner in gold.

“I wanted it to match your jacket.” Mercedes said, petting the puppy in her lap. Ferdinand was moved.

“You’re so thoughtful, Mercedes.” Ferdinand said, putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close enough to kiss her. “Thank you.”

Mercedes picked up the puppy in her lap and placed him to the floor so she could take Ferdinand in her arms. Mercedes had a fantasy that part of her hated to admit to, and the other part of her wanted to act on it. She knew Ferdinand spent a lot of time in these stables and one slow night in the infirmary when she was feeling…restless…she let her mind wander to the thought of panting mercilessly underneath Ferdinand amidst the horse blankets while he had his way with her. If asked how Ferdinand was in bed, Mercedes, in her most innocent voice, would say that he was gentle and amorous…unless you didn’t want him to be…in which case he could be, in her words, ‘hot and dirty’…which, for those two probably meant something along the lines of being on top the covers. Whatever the case, Mercedes was _way_ into both versions. She wouldn’t dare push Ferdinand off this hay and into the blankets behind him. After all, there were puppies present! They broke their heated kiss, Mercedes’ body felt weak all over as she interlaced her hand with Ferdinand’s. She couldn’t help but laugh because two of the puppies were tickling her ankle with their excited little tails.

Ferdinand laughed and kissed her temple. “I think they may want you to feed them.”

“Awww, are they hungry?” Mercedes asked, as Ferdinand pulled her up from the hay.

“I imagine they are. Come on, we’ll feed them together and thank you again for such a beautiful gift from such a beautiful girl.” Ferdinand kissed her again, Mercedes’ cheeks turning pink. The puppies scattered as she and Ferdinand stepped over them, the mother Aegir Hound appeared from around the stable door.

“There she is! Are they still nursing her?” Mercedes asked.

“No, they eat solid food now. Well, solid food turned into mush with milk.” Ferdinand explained as the excited puppies followed him, knowing the routine. “You don’t have to return to the infirmary, right?”

“I all finished which means I’m yours the rest of the night!” Mercedes said, not realizing how that came out. Ferdinand looked at her, nearly spilling the puppies’ food. “Oh! Wait…I mean…!” Mercedes panicked. “Um…you know…what I mean…right!?” Mercedes added quickly. Deep down, Mercedes wanted to be Ferdinand’s for the rest of the night and truth be told, she probably would be. She’d never confess that out loud…not without a three drink minimum.

“Yes! Yes, of course I do! I…I wouldn’t dare…” Mercedes interrupted Ferdinand.

“Should we do what we did the other night?” she asked.

“Absolutely!” Ferdinand answered. Mercedes barely got the words out. Judging by that quick reaction, it must have been something great.

* * *

“Come at me! Come at me! C’mon! Keep the edge high! KEEP IT HIGH!” Catherine coached. Felix let his sword fall limply at his side and turned his back to Catherine. He dropped his sword to the stone floor, putting his hands on his hips, walking toward the edge of the training ring. “Hey!? What gives? Your form looked great!” Catherine complained. Felix didn’t answer, he remained with his back turned, scuffing the floor with shoe and wiping his forehead. He spun around to face Catherine, his hands on his hips again.

“What if I’m a shitty husband?

“What!?” Catherine asked. What the hell did that have to do with training? Felix swallowed hard and focused his eyes to the ceiling. Now would be a good time for Felix to tell Catherine he had intentions of getting married.

“Dorothea and I are in pre-marital counseling. We’ve had two sessions and…I hate the counselor and she _always_ has all these excellent answers to the invasive questions he asks and…and I’m going to be a shitty husband! I’m going to be a shitty husband and an even shittier father!” He shook his head in frustration. “I should…I should just leave her, shouldn’t I? I should scrap this whole thing…tell her to find a good man.” Catherine blinked at least twenty times. So much for training.

“Okay…. Felix. Let’s back up like, twelve steps. You’re getting married!?” Felix huffed.

“Did you not hear _anything_ I said!?”

“Well, yeah! But…you never told me this! That’s incredible!”

“No! No it’s not! I…I’m going to be a shitty husband!” Felix reiterated.

“But…you aren’t a shitty boyfriend. Why do you think you’ll be a shitty husband?” Catherine questioned.

“Because!” Felix insisted, irritated.

“Because isn’t an answer.” Catherine said.

“The counselor said I was underwhelming as a partner to Dorothea.” Felix said, scowling and folding his arms across his chest. He almost seemed like he was saddened repeating it, as if the counselor had actually hurt his _feelings_.

“That’s a shitty thing for a counselor to say.”

“But it’s true isn’t it?”

“No! Hell, no it’s not true. You aren’t ‘underwhelming’.” Catherine said mocking the counselor’s words. “Felix…” Catherine began tossing her sword aside and sitting on the edge of the training ring. “…you are _so_ hyper-confident when that blade is in your hand. Why can’t you take that confidence and transfer it to your relationship? And why the hell would you be so selfish to say you should _leave_ Dorothea so she can find a good man? Guess what? I _am_ looking at a good man.” Catherine said, staring Felix down. He scowled back at her.

“Are…you…looking over my shoulder at someone else or…are you talking about me?” he asked, sitting down beside her. Catherine rolled her eyes and flicked his shoulder.

“I’m talking about _you_ dumbass! You _really_ need to get your shit together.”

“I know…” Felix admitted, looking at the floor.

“If you’ve got cold feet…get some socks!” Catherine said. Felix smiled.

“It’s…no, it’s not that. That’s a good line though. I _want_ to be married and I _want_ Dorothea to be my wife. I just…when the counselor said that I…”

“Say it. He hurt your feelings.” Catherine asked. Felix shook his head.

“Damn it…Catherine…” he mumbled. “Yes. Yes, he…. he hurt my feelings a lot. He doesn’t have a fucking clue how hard it is for me to…I don’t know…I just…” Felix sighed. “…after he said that, I started second guessing how fit of a husband I’d be.” Catherine studied Felix endearingly.

“You’re going to be a fantastic husband.”

“Don’t just tell me that!” Felix accused her.

“Listen. I know you, Felix. You’ve been training with me for _three_ years. You don’t think you and I have some understanding of one another!? Shit! Give me some credit. You’re hard-working, you’re dedicated, you’re so fucking bull headed sometimes but that’s not always bad, you know? You prioritize things and you’re a hell of a leader. Above all, you adore the woman you’ve chosen as your wife and I know you would do anything for her.” Felix heeded Catherine’s every word. She wasn’t lying. She wasn’t telling him something to make him feel better. He nodded, tracing circles on his knee with his finger. Felix locked eyes with Catherine.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Catherine said, staring at the stone floor somberly. “I envy you.” Felix looked at her peculiarly.

“You envy me?” he questioned.

“Well, not just you. I envy most straight couples. You get to marry the woman you love. I’ll never get that chance, Felix. Shamir and I live together and that’s as far as we will ever get. You need to not take for granted that you get to stand before the Goddess and be united in Holy matrimony.”

“Oh shit, I…I never thought of it that way…” He smiled. “So, you’d marry Shamir?” Catherine laughed.

“Hell, yeah I would. She doesn’t know that, but I so would. It’s the thought that counts, right?”

“After I inherit the Dukedom, I’ll make sure that you can marry Shamir under House Fraldarius.” Felix promised her.

“Felix, that is…the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me. But, let’s be honest. House Fraldarius is conservative. Your dad would croak if he witnessed two women married under his watch.” Felix smiled.

“Okay, you’re right. _He’s_ conservative but it won’t be his call. I’ll see to it that you two have a bigger wedding than mine. You’re coming right? To my wedding? You and Shamir will be there?” Catherine wiped a tear from her eye to think that Felix cared enough about her to make such a promise.

“To see you wearing something aside from these leg warmers? I wouldn’t miss it.” Catherine said, flicking the fabric against Felix’s leg.” He laughed.

“What? These aren’t leg warmers.” He said.

“Then…what are they?” Catherine asked.

“They’re…. they’re…you know…not….leg warmers.” Felix said unconvincingly.

“ _These_ are leg warmers! Alright. Put Shamir and I up in your best Fraldarian accommodations. I can’t wait to party at your wedding.” Catherine said, slapping Felix’s leg.

* * *

Most battle trained wyverns were able to learn between eight and ten hand signs. Because their sense of smell was so keen, they could sniff out blood on a battlefield and therefore avoid high casualty areas. Claude’s wyvern could consistently respond to twelve hand signs. She had also learned to identify four different battle flags. When her muscular, 1100-pound form was all decked out in traditional, Almyran battle gear, she was truly a sight to behold: powerful, graceful and mystical. Seteth has a way of working a wyvern up for mock-battle practice. It was also a way to help the wyvern distinguish a real battle from training.

Claude’s wyvern was starting to sway and snort, signs that she was getting excited. Her tassels swayed with her as she shifted her weight around. “There you go…steady…steady girl…” Seteth said softly, hearing her snort louder. He gave her a second hand sign only for her to vocalize in abrupt, deep growls. Her typically wide, soft and curious amber eyes became intensified.

Shamir stood off to the side, exchanging her stare between Claude, who was at least 200 yards away and Seteth, who was no more than ten feet from her. She was nervous. When that wyvern was in battle-ready mode, she was downright dangerous. She could kill _anything_ in her path if she so desired. Her vocalizations became deeper, darker, and more frequent as she began to dig her claws into the dirt. She hunkered her head low as Seteth gave her another hand sign. She began to screech repeatedly as a warning, her voice loud and _very_ clear. Once Seteth gave her a final sign, she outstretched her wings. They trembled with ferocity as she let out the most primal of battle cries. Seteth had it memorized: one long, hair-raising, scream, followed by three short bursts and then…she took off for Claude. Each wyvern had a predictable pattern, and that was hers. Off she went, lifting off the ground and gliding to Claude.

“She makes me uneasy. Claude makes me nervous. I hate these drills.” Shamir said to Seteth.

“She is truly a remarkable wyvern. Claude will be fine. He knows these drills.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got her all…. preheated. Could she ever just go batshit crazy?” Shamir asked, still nervous watching Claude grab hold of her side reigns only for her to begin her vertical climb. “See!? Look! That is…insane! She’s completely vertical and Claude’s not even on her back!!” Shamir said.

“It’s spectacular!’ Seteth said, so in love with the sight. “She’s not as fast in the air as the smaller wyverns, but she’s a fortress.” She had a beautiful, poetic glide. Once she reached her cruising height, she took over the sky making the sun appear as an accessory to her. Claude would take it from here. The two would glide for a mile or so to practice…whatever it was Claude wanted her to practice…and then return. Aaaaaaand here came the babies….

“Goddess…Seteth! How did the babies get out!?” Shamir asked, as the three hurried toward her.

“Ah! Excellent! I had Cyril let them out earlier. You and I have a job. They are ready to be horned!” Seteth said excitedly, pointing to a pile of supplies.

“Horned?” Shamir questioned. Wyvern ‘antlers’ naturally grew in flat and pointing to the back which caused issues in fitting their riding harnesses. The babies were nearing four months old and their antlers were ready to be trained to grow vertically.

“Yes! The antlers are still soft cartilage at this point. We’re going to splint them to grow straight instead of flat. All you have to do is hold them.”

“I’m not hurting my wyvern babies, Seteth!” Shamir protested.

“It won’t hurt them at all. We just have to make sure each antler is wrapped tightly enough so they don’t thrash the wrap loose.”

“Alright. Whatever you say.” Shamir caved to Seteth’s instructions. “Here! Get over here! Hey! Don’t….chew on that!” Shamir scolded the bronze wyvern. They were much too big for her to pull away from things they got into, so she had to do her best to coerce them away from things that captured their interest.

“Okay, hold her.” Seteth said, measuring out the gauze from the spool.

“I’ve been thinking…” Shamir began. “Do you…sincerely believe that I should say something about…you know…Claude and Byleth?”

“Of course, I do! Shamir, if Catherine were sleeping around on you and I knew about it, would you be relieved that I told you?”

“Well…yeah! Yeah, I would…I think. There’s part of me that would want Catherine to tell me herself. You know, own it. I kinda of think Byleth needs to tell Dimitri because she’s just dodged _everything_. Hey! Don’t squirm!” she said to the wyvern as Seteth started to splint and wrap the first horn. Seteth wasn’t convinced.

“Shamir. Please. What did Claude say to make you change your mind?” Shamir sighed. Damn, Seteth was good.

“I…think he may actually love her. Like, for real.”

“Claude’s smart. You know that. I think he’s feeding you that line to keep you quiet.” Shamir was surprised by Seteth’s accusations.

“I get what you’re saying, I do. But _you know_ that I’ve known Claude for a long time now. He’s more transparent with me than he is with anyone else. He _elected_ to tell me he was sleeping with a woman he has no business sleeping with. He _chose_ to tell me, in detail, what’s been going on in his penthouse and I sure as hell didn’t twist his arm into that. He fucking told me his motives: Make her Queen of Almyra. I didn’t even have to beg for it. This is why I think there has to be some truth to it. He must love her in some capacity. It’s not just a line to justify nearly three months of…fucking in the…most luxurious accommodations you can imagine.” Seteth nodded, finishing the first antler.

“Why her?”

“Why her, what?” Shamir asked, moving to the opposite antler.

“Let’s be honest. Claude could have his pick of _anyone_ to the share the governing responsibility. Why _her_? It’s rhetorical, I realize. You already know the answer.”

“Of course, I do. She can help him accomplish his dream. He can unite Almrya and Fódlan with _her_. She’s the piece of the puzzle that makes it _very_ easy to do that. I’ll take it a step further. He wants her pregnant because she wouldn’t leave the father of her child. So, Claude gets her, a united Fódlan and the baby would just be an added bonus for several other reasons. Don’t think for a second, Seteth, that I underestimate Claude. I just…need your support is all. I respect your opinion regarding the…information…I have.” Shamir explained. Seteth was touched.

“I’m happy to hear you value my thoughts. Since we’re being honest, Byleth’s life would be easier with Claude than Dimitri. There! You’re all done!” Seteth patted the bronze wyvern only for her to take off with a squawk. The ivory wyvern was next. Shamir laughed.

“Yeah, it would. Dimitri is a handful. But he’s safe and he’s predictable. Byleth thrives on that.”

“You’re saying Claude isn’t?” Seteth asked, measuring out the gauze once more.

“Um, would you call rubbing some gorgeous Almyran guy down in incense oil, making out with him, and then _blowing him_ at a diplomatic party safe and predictable?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Shamir! Dimitri does that _all_ the time.” Seteth said it as straight-faced as he could. Shamir couldn’t hide her laughter. Seteth certainly had a sense of humor. Seteth chuckled at her. “You’re doing a fine job, by the way.”

* * *

Byleth remembered well her first time with Dimitri. It had been well over a year prior. They were on assignment in the Tailtean Plains and it was the middle of January. It was bitterly cold in that part of the country. She recalled the inn where the Blue Lions stayed for three consecutive nights. It had inadequate fireplaces for its size and therefore the heat circulated poorly. Byleth laid against Dimitri on a crude mattress on the floor as close to the heat source as they could get. She vividly recalled the smell of Dimitri’s fur hide draped over the two of them combined with the musty scent that hung in the room that night.

It began as the two of them recalling the days’ events and laughing about the silliest of things. She remembered how warm, how strong, and protective Dimitri’s body was and how they didn’t even try to resist one another. They had no intentions of taking their clothes off, but all that grinding and heated making out lead to exactly that. They forgot about how cold the room was. Byleth could vividly recall how hot it was between them and how Dimitiri’s cloak trapped the smell of sex beneath it. The whole ordeal had been awkward as with every first time. Byleth remembered how nervous she was, and her tenseness didn’t make it any less painful. None the less, Dimitri made her feel safe and content in that moment.

That mission was memorable in a lot of ways: Ingrid had been forced to share a room with Sylvain and they argued nearly every night because Sylvain would stumble in at 3AM drunk after one multiple night stands only to wake her. Felix stayed pissed that entire trip because he was stuck in the middle of sex on one side of him and arguing on the other. Dudue and Ashe connected with one another deeply, forming a brotherly bond. Mercedes confessed to Annette that she had a crush on Ferdinand though it took nearly a year for her to act on it. There was one more very important detail about that particular trip: Byleth and Dimitri were _so_ in love.

She missed that. At least she thought she did. Byleth had never actually said I love you, out loud, to Claude. He had never said it out loud to her. She couldn’t recall the last time Dimitri told her that he loved her. A month ago, she would have said the only thing Dimitri loved was his own misery. But now, looking at him across the table from her, bright-eyed and _much_ stronger than the weeks prior, she saw a Dimitri she’d hadn’t seen in months…a stable Dimitri, a…recovering version of the man she fell in love with. She studied him carefully, seeing life in his face, expression returning to his form. He was starting to look like his old self and act like his old self.

“Ah!” he said, putting his tea to the table. It was the first time he had seen Byleth in three weeks. She watched as he reached his hand toward hers, placing his palm over the back of her hand. “I am…so glad you’re here.” He said sincerely. Byleth nodded, not taking her eyes off his hand on hers. Both Dimitri and Byleth were silent, not truly knowing what to say next and for very _different_ reasons. “Training with Dedue has gone well. He’s pushed me really hard but…it’s gone well.” He finally said. Byleth looked up, her eyes meeting Dimitri’s soft blue ones. His expression was full of guilt and he was desperate for forgiveness. It was ironic.

“Good…That’s…that’s good. I’m glad to…” Byleth’s eyes welled up with tears. She didn’t even finish her sentence. She simply broke down, pulling her hand away from Dimitri’s and burying her face in her hands. It was the kind of crying where you silently sobbed before allowing a throaty weep sneak through. It wasn’t supposed to happen right now. This was supposed to happen _much_ later when Byleth was ready.

“Noooo, no, come here. I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…. for everything. I’m sorry for how…horribly I’ve treated you.” Dimitri stood up and took Byleth in his arms. He had almost forgotten how her hair smelled and how warm her skin felt. She didn’t want to allow her body melt into Dimitri, nor did she want to bury her face in his shoulder to muffle her deep sobs…but she did and he felt so comfortable, so familiar and her memory was instantly triggered to a time she was always enveloped in Dimitri’s deep, handsome, scent. She let his smell hang on her like a mark of ownership…but now? Oh, if only Dimitri knew why she smelled of spiced vanilla and soft earth. If only he knew that her clothes had gone unwashed from the night before. Yes, the night before…well, morning, actually… when she was pinned down by her wrists and arching her back almost involuntarily. She didn’t even take a shower afterward, because she _wanted_ to smell like Claude all day. She hadn’t expected to be sitting here across from Dimitri. She wasn’t ready and this most certainly wasn’t the time.

She was crying too hard to make any sense of her out of control thoughts. She fought with her conscious wondering why the _hell_ she had to be crying right now. _Why_ was Claude creeping into her mind _now_ of all times!? “My dearest, my beloved…it’s okay. It’s okay, I’ll do anything to make…” Byleth pushed this kind, broken, man away from her. She couldn’t in good faith let him hold her right now. It had all hit the fan. Her guilt had reached its boiling point at this, of all times. Byleth trembled all over as she wiped her tear-soaked face.

“Dimitri…” she began, her voice a half cry, half whimper. “I…I’ve been sleeping with another man…” She choked out, which only caused her to cry harder. There it was. The words that had tormented her for weeks. She just blurted it out. Byleth had no idea how she _wanted_ Dimitri to react. She wasn’t looking for Dimitri to throw caution to the wind and say that everything would be alright. She _just_ needed to tell him. Regardless of his reaction, regardless of the consequence, she _needed_ to tell him. “I’m sleeping with another man…” she mumbled, mostly to herself. Byleth needed to hear the words out loud once more. It made it all the more real. There was something about the words she chose. She didn’t say ‘there’s someone else…’, she didn’t say ‘I’ve found someone new…’ she chose, ‘ _I’m sleeping with another man_.’


	15. One Good Woman

When news such as the kind Byleth was hiding broke in the monastery, it had everyone talking. Some of the most common reactions were shock, disbelief, denial and disgust. Most everyone shrugged the whole thing off after the initial wave wore off. Afterall, this was no one’s business except for Dimitri and Byleth’s…and Claude’s. In fact, most everyone wanted nothing to do with this. They didn’t even want to be asked. When you fuck two House leaders, the smart thing is to stay far away.

“Mmm! Can you believe this? Look at all this meat!” Ingrid remarked, madly in love with her BBQ sandwich.

“You know, I could have had an elegant, refined girlfriend but no….I chose the one who rips into BBQ like a savage.” Sylvain said, handing over the dill pickle before Ingrid could take his hand off.

“Hey…I am… _so_ refined. Oh shit, would you look at this extra BBQ sauce!? Look at that, Sylvain! It _drips!_ ” He had to laugh. How could he not? The fact that Ingrid was unapologetically her made him love her that much more. “Oooooh would you look at this pickle? Damn…” Sylvain may have loved the sight of Ingrid, sitting there at the small table, dirty from countless tumbles off the Pegasus devouring her coveted sandwich, but right now, she was way more _into_ that sandwich than she was Sylvain.

“Here, Your Grace…wash that down.” Sylvain teased her, handing over the bottle of fine Fraldarian whiskey. Ingrid’s hands were covered in BBQ sauce but she didn’t care. She took a long swig from the bottle, not waiting on Sylvain to hand her a glass.

“You might want to wipe that off.” She said, looking at the sticky brown sugar-based mess she left on the bottle. Sylvain shook his head.

“Barbaric.”

“Hey, it could be worse. I could still be on that Pegasus screaming at it. I’m starting to doubt my ability to get it to do anything. All I’ve done is get on it and get hurt.” She said, handing the bottle to Sylvain.

“You’ll get it! You almost got her to lift today. She wanted to, she just fought you too hard.” Sylvain said, kneeling at Ingrid’s feel to examine all of the raw burns, cuts and scrapes she had been riddled with during the days’ session.

“I hope you’re right. It’s just been really discouraging.” Ingrid confessed.

“Pegasus’ are not like horses even though everyone thinks they are. It’s not you, Ingrid, it’s the Pegasus. Horses break easier. You’ll get her, just wait.” He took a long drink and handed the bottle back to Ingrid. She laughed.

“You and I haven’t done any day drinking for a _long_ time.” Sylvain smiled, rubbing the protective aloe onto Ingrid’s exposed ground burns.

“No, we haven’t. You know, when I’m totally drunk, I get super touchy-feely and I talk like, a hundred miles a minute. _And_ when I’m totally drunk, I want to _fuck_.” Sylvain admitted.

“And you think I don’t know this?” Ingrid laughed, dousing her sandwich with the extra BBQ sauce.

“How much sauce do you need!? I should have just gotten you bread and a bottle of sauce!” he said, watching her enthusiastically wipe every last bit out of the small container.

“BBQ is an art…an art you can’t appreciate. Now, about your touchy feeling status?”

“I know, I know, I’m actually goin’ somewhere with this. There were so many girls that I slept with who accused me of talking about you too much. Didn’t matter if I was drunk _or_ sober. There was this one girl who point-blank said to me, ‘you talk about her so much, why don’t you date her’. I feel guilty…guilty over the fact that you and I didn’t get together sooner. I could have been aggravating you _so_ much earlier.”

“I think it’s all about timing. You and I would have never worked if we have tried to be together before we did. AGH!” Ingrid yelped at Sylvain’s hand on the back of her knee. “THAT! That hurts a lot.”

“Take a big drink and I’m going to pop it. Your knee is locked up badly” Sylvain said, feeling how tense Ingrid’s knee was against his hand.

“What!? No you aren’t.” she said, squirming.

“Take a drink or…hell, I don’t care drown yourself in BBQ…here we go. One…two…” Ingrid let out a yelp at the feeling of Sylvain’s fist crammed into her knee. They both heard the nasty pop of her tendon but the instant relief was worth it.

“Goddess…I don’t know what you just did…but it worked.” Ingrid said, leaning back into the chair, taking a long drink as he had instructed her, though it was a little too late. “Thank you…” she said, handing the bottle over.

“Better, huh?” he asked.

“Much…”

“So…do you think Dimitri and the professor will work things out?” Sylvain asked, standing up and peeling his shirt off, throwing it into the outgoing laundry. The thought seemed to come out of nowhere. Ingrid shrugged and actually put her sandwich down.

“I don’t know. I’d like to think that they will. But…it’s like I told you when we sat across from each other at the infirmary…if you ever cheat on me, it’s over. I wouldn’t blame Dimitri for not wanting to see, hear, or…be near the professor again. Yet…at the same time, I kinda’ think no one is to blame…completely.

“What do you mean?” Sylvain wondered, genuinely curious.

“Dimitri has a mental health condition that he can’t control, but…he could have followed Mercedes’ orders on his medications instead of becoming dependent and doing nothing but sleep. He could have let the professor take care of him the way she _wanted_ to, the way she was instructed to and the way she knew he needed. She was the only one who truly knew how to care for Dimitri. She made him the _top_ priority in her life, re-structured her life around him and he did not reciprocate that. The professor is a good woman. She and Dimitri _both_ made mistakes…hers more severe, yes…but neither of them is completely innocent.” Sylvain nodded.

“Valid. That’s valid. What about the trust? You _trusted_ me completely even after telling you I had slept with thirty women. Why can’t Dimitri trust her after sleeping with one man? I’m not saying he should…I’m just…asking.” Sylvain questioned.

“It’s different. All of your encounters were meaningless, one-night stands. The professor acted repeatedly, _knowingly_ and it involved heavily arranged details.

“You’re right. What they need is a long, long break to determine if they really should be together.” Sylvain said.

“What are you going to tell Dimitri if he asks for your advice?” Ingrid asked.

“That’s a tough one…” Sylvain began, running his hands through his hair and sitting on the edge of his bed. “I think I would tell him to do a _lot_ of soul searching…don't be a fool and...rush in...to anything.” Ingrid agreed.

“Yeah.” Ingrid thought for a moment. “Do you…wonder why…she picked von Riegan? Another _House_ leader? She had to have known that wasn’t smart.”

“Ingrid…I want you to know, I mean this in the most heterosexual way possible…I’ve seen the guy shirtless…a lot…he’s really good-looking, okay? There, I said it…and it’s _fine_ because guys can say stuff like that now.” Ingrid laughed, trying not to make a complete mess of her BBQ sauce.

“Oooooh Sylvain…I love you…Goddess, how I love you…”

* * *

No one could have predicted the strong reaction Felix had to Byleth’s straying out her relationship. Of everything that could have possibly gotten under his skin, it was _this._ He was distracted, short, and unwilling to discuss….anything…with anyone. Things had gotten so bad that Felix was staying at the training ring until absurdly late hours, waiting for Dorothea to fall asleep, then coming into his room quietly so he wouldn’t wake her. He knew he shouldn’t be allowing someone else’s relationship creep into his own but Felix was having a lot of trouble digesting it and to make matters even worse, he had taken it _all_ out on Dorothea. He had barely said a word to her for a week and the words he did say were short tempered and fueled by...whatever it was Felix felt that he couldn't pinpoint.

Felix leaned against the wall at the bottom of the stairwell that lead to the 2nd floor dormitories. He watched the rain, not caring that the wind was blowing heavy drops into him, soaking his clothes. He reached into the inner pocket of his outercoat and pulled out the ring he had yet to give Dorothea. He had retrieved it from Sylvain because in his words, Sylvain ‘didn’t need to keep it anymore’, whatever cryptic message that sent.

He opened the box and stared at the diamond. How the hell did he think he could commit a lifetime to Dorothea when two people in his immediate circle couldn’t commit to each other for two years!? This whole marriage thing was bullshit. His own parents had been married over twenty years and now more than ever, Felix desperately wanted to ask his father how they managed that. They weren’t even unhappy! He snapped the box closed and jammed the ring back into his pocket, focusing his attention on the rain. His mind so heavy.

“Oh my…Goddess! Felix! I’ve been looking for you for…hours! Look at you! You’re getting…soaked!” Dorothea said, irritated that she didn’t have an umbrella to offer him. The frantic nature in her voice caught Felix’s attention. “Where have you been!?” Dorothea scolded through gritted teeth.

“Sorry...” Felix mumbled, looking at the soaked earth.

“Sorry!? That’s all I get?” Dorothea sighed. She wanted to be angrier at him than what she showed. The truth was, she was one of the few who could tolerate Felix right now even though she had been on the receiving end of his poor coping skills. “Felix, you have to…” She was interrupted by the most words Felix had said to her all week.

“I need to know where you stand.” He stated, crossing his arms and looking away from her. “I need to know…where you stand…on what’s happened with the professor and Dimitri.” He said.

“I…I think Dimitri is a victim and I…don’t think the professor has an excuse.” Dorothea said.

“Don’t…tell me that to appease me!” Felix demanded.

“Excuse you, Felix! You asked me a question, I gave you an answer. If I were trying to appease you, I would let you sulk and carry on out here in the rain the same way you have all week! I wouldn’t have been _looking_ for you and forgetting everything else I’ve had to do! Now, I’ll agree that things in the House have been incredibly tense but that’s no reason for you to…completely shut down. We missed counseling because of you. You can’t let…” Felix stopped her.

“What if it were me?” he asked. “What if…what if it were me who got so damn depressed that I just…neglected you in every possible way. What if I pushed you to the point that…” Felix’s breath shuddered, “…that you felt the need to…go fuck another man…” Felix said, putting his hand over his face.

So, _that’s_ what this was about. Felix had enormous amounts of natural talent. He was smart, he was good with numbers, articulate, his sword prowess was exquisite and battle-driven mind was unmatched. Overthinking, poorly managing his emotions and over-reacting were his greatest flaws. Felix didn’t _really_ care about what had unfolded between Dimitri and Byleth. What bothered him so greatly was that for the first time, he saw that love could be fleeting. Byleth _loved_ Dimitri but PTSD loved him more than she could. He knew Dorothea loved him, but marriage vows said something about for better or worse…what if she couldn’t survive the worse? That was his fear: the woman he was ready to spend his life with, may not spend her life with him.

“Felix…it’s…that’s never going to be you and me.” Dorothea promised him.

“Answer…the question, Dee. I need to know.” Felix said, his face overcome with uncertainty. She tentatively moved closer to him.

“Look, I love you, Felix.” Dorothea started.

“Yeah, well the professor loved Dimitri too. That’s not gonna’ be enough, Dee.” He said, crossing his arms again. Dorothea closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She, of all people, knew that talking Felix off a ledge was no easy task….and she was completely ready to do it. If she couldn't handle him at his worst, there was no way she could handle a lifetime of him.

“I know it’s not. Love alone is…not enough for any two people to survive. You have to know each other really well. You have to be able to communicate with each other…understand each other. You have to know each other’s flaws and their weaknesses. Felix, I know how much the unknown drives you crazy. I understand how you need to have control of a situation. I’m never going to fuck another man because frankly, I have far too much respect for you to ever fuck someone else.” Dorothea finished, watching as Felix didn’t flinch. The pouring rain was the only sound to be heard. She was about to walk away and let Felix resolve the rest of his unsorted thoughts on his own…until she heard him sniff. Dorothea had never seen Felix shed a tear before. She as convinced that he was so confident and self-assured that he was immune to tears. The reality was that he wasn’t immune to emotion and he didn’t know how to filter the really, really big ones. So, true to form, something that really stirred Felix always sent him into overdrive and he needed someone in his life who was grounded enough to calm him.

“Come here…. turn around. Get out of the rain.” Dorothea’s voice was soft and reassuring. “It’s okay…” She took Felix’s half-soaked form in her arms and felt him tremble against her. He sniffed again, inhaling with it. He stepped back from Dorothea, his hands on her shoulders.

“I just…I got really worked up this week...” he admitted, staring at the ground. “I’m sorry that… I don’t handle things very well. And, this week, I’ve taken it out on you. Yet…here you are…telling me you _respect_ me.” Felix sniffed again and wiped his eyes. “Well, I respect you too and I’d never fuck another woman. Hell, another woman wouldn’t even wanna’ fuck me. Have you met _me_?” It made Dorothea laugh. Felix sighed and sniffed. “You know what…” He shook his head and stifled his composure. “You always hear there’s never a right time to do this. Well, I hadn’t planned on…now...but…” Felix dug into his inner pocket. “Dorothea Arnault, will you marry me?” The very sight of Felix being down on one knee in the middle of sopping wet, cracked sidewalk was all the grand gesture that Dorothea needed. For him to put himself in an even more vulnerable situation than he already was, showed just how much he loved her. 

She gasped. Dorothea expected a noble’s ring but this!? She was speechless. Her mind said yes, but her mouth hung open, wordless. She finally got her brain and her body to connect. “Yes…” She nodded emphatically. “Yes, Felix…I absolutely will.” She answered, feeling her eyes well up with tears. Sliding that diamond onto her finger meant so much more than the obvious that it symbolized. Dorothea’s hand shook as she pulled Felix up from the wet ground and into her arms again. “Now I’m the one who’s a mess.” Dorothea said, tears in her eyes and burying her face into Felix’s neck. He laughed at her.

“I had something completely different planned but…this means so much more.” Felix said, taking her face in his hands and wiping away the streaks on Dorothea’s face.

“What did you have planned?” she asked. Felix shook his head, reaching for her hand to admire how perfectly his mother’s diamond fit her.

“I don’t…really know…but it sure as hell wasn’t this.” He said. “I decided earlier this week I was going to give the ring back to my dad. It’s my mom’s ring and…he brought it to me. I was going to give it back because I…”

“Freaked out?” Dorothea asked, finishing his sentence. Felix nodded in defeat.

“Yeah…freaked out.” Dorothea smiled and wiped her face again.

“It’s a stunning ring…Felix. You did good. You did… _really_ good.” She said admiring the fine, emerald cut lines of the stone. “You know I would’ve said yes to a Noble’s ring too, right?” Felix put his wet arms around her.

“I know…but the Noble’s ring is so…bland…and you’re not. Goddess, you’re not. Let’s go inside. I’m…done…being in my head for the day…for the week…hell, for the month.” Felix said, feeling complete relief overcome him. Dorothea took his hand in hers.

“Yeah, let’s go. I’ll make us some tea.” She said. Felix didn’t say it out loud, but there was comfort in knowing who was falling asleep beside him tonight and every night. Dimitri had no such comfort right now and Felix was going to make damn sure to remind Dimitri of that.

* * *

Major relationship hurdles were the manifestation of unresolved pain. Two sick people could not make or maintain a healthy relationship. It begged the question: Was Dimitri the sick one or was it Byleth? Was it both? The grandest question: Was Byleth and Dimitri’s relationship worth salvaging or was it like a long overdue library book with a late fee so costly, it was cheaper to simply write the book off as ‘lost or damaged’.

Dedue was a man of few words, but his ability to listen was his greatest quality. A week had passed since Byleth told Dimitri about sleeping with Claude. Dedue hadn’t left Dimitri’s side. In fact, Dedue had hardly allowed Dimitri to shower by himself. He had successfully distracted Dimitri through training and the results were quite obvious. Dimitri had made _so_ much progress in training. His body was quickly transforming. The former shell of himself was being shed and a stronger, more confident Dimitri emerging.

Dedue sat across from Byleth at the table in the reception hall. Darkness had enveloped the land and the two were alone on this rainy night. Currently, they were in a staring contest, Dedue trying to read something, anything into Byleth’s eyes. “Dimitri told me who it is.” He finally said. Byleth nodded. “How long?” Dedue asked. Byleth shot eyes at him, her lips not moving. The silence in the Reception Hall, deafening. Dedue sighed, irritated. “Maybe I should rephrase the question. How long…have you…been fucking…Claude von Riegan?” Hearing Dedue’s intimidating tone rattled Byleth. She blinked repeatedly and pulled her knees into her chest as she leaned against the wall, peering at Dedue. He was losing his typically unnerving patience. “I highly suggest that you talk to me. I need to know the details. I’m here at His Highness’s request. To be frank, he’s not sure he can handle what you…haven’t shared. Now, let’s try again. HOW. LONG.” Dedue demanded. Byleth’s expression remained stone cold and determined. 

“Three months. It…started when…Dimitri got _really_ bad. I was…I was so…. _angry_!” she insisted.

“You were _angry_? You fuck a dishonest, conniving, good for nothing, tactical, son-of-a-bitch because you were angry. Stop making this sound like Dimitri’s fault! If you aren’t going to own what you’ve done _why_ would you even tell him!? This. Is. _Your. Fault!_ ” Dedue’s tone had only intensified.

“What did you just say about Claude!?” Byleth insisted.

“Right there. _That!_ ” Dedue stuck a finger in Byleth’s face. “You’re _defending him_! You aren’t ready to stop! You aren’t going to fix things with Dimitri…are you? If you defend that piece of shit, liar…you aren’t what Dimitri needs.” Byleth had never seen Dedue like this. He was so…worked up. “Stop dancing around the issue and _give me_ the details.” Byleth nodded, not breaking her gaze with Dedue.

“Alright. What do you want me to say, Dedue? Do you want me to say that I’m a _whore_? Is that what you need to hear? Go ahead, you go run to Dimitri and tell him what a _fucking whore_ I am!”

“That’s not what…” Byleth interrupted Dedue.

“No, no! No! You want _details_! I’ll give you details!! Maybe we should start from the beginning when I was staying up _countless_ nights on end only to get verbally assaulted every day. Perhaps we should talk about how Dimitri wouldn’t eat and how it broke my heart to watch his self-imposed starving. I stopped eating because _he_ stopped eating! Let’s talk about him not getting out of bed, throwing his fresh clothes for the day to the floor…him _wreaking_ from not bathing! Maybe…maybe you’d like to know how much it destroyed me to watch his strong, healthy body deteriorate…how I watched his strong, healthy _mind_ deteriorate.” Byleth’s breath shuddered as she relived her past several months with Dimitri.

“Did you want to hear about how he looked me dead in the eye and told me he didn’t love me or the House? I did _everything_ for him only to watch him sink deeper, grow darker, and become otherwise helpless. Then, Rodrigue Fraldarius shows up and is able to do in a half hour what I couldn’t do in _months_. You’re telling me you wouldn’t be just a little bit fucking pissed off!? I got _sick and tired_ of dealing with _sick and tired_.”

Byleth chuckled at Dedue. “How am I doing? Hmm? Do you like what you hear? Dimitri was always such a good listener…until Claude started listening. He’s a much better listener than Dimitri ever was. I poured my heart out to Claude. He didn’t say anything, he just listened…he listened for what felt like days and let me get it all out. He gave me _permission_ to feel anything I wanted without judgement of any kind.” She took a long breath, running her fingers over her face and through her hair, pulling it taunt against her forehead.

“It’s always said that women are emotional creatures who think only with their heart. Let me tell you something, Dedue. When your heart is as shattered as mine was when I started sleeping with Claude; there's none left to think with. The decision I made was with my brain…not my heart. Everybody in the House has a bounty on Claude’s head right now but guess who pulled the trigger, Dedue? I did.” Byleth lowered her voice and leaned in toward Dedue, causing him to uncomfortably lean backwards in his chair. “I made the choice to spread my legs. What you want me to say is that I’m Claude von Riegan's _whore_ and that we’ve had the _filthiest_ sex you can imagine. Am I right?” Byleth sat back in her chair and nervously shook her leg.

“Professor…I….I just…”

“We’re not done. Let’s talk about how Claude put his hands all over my sweaty, eager body…the same body Dimitri used to put his hands on. Byleth paused, having heard her own voice resonate against the barren walls. She shook her head. “Are you ready to hear about the time I came all over Claude’s lips? Huh? Maybe you’re more interested in _how_ we've had sex…intense…passionate…sloppy…him on top…me on top…” Byleth laughed again, watching Dedue squirm. She lowered her voice again. “Dimitri has the bigger cock…by an entire half inch. But, Claude is unc…” Dedue did everything he could to stifle his reaction.

“Stop! Stop! Stop….Stop….don’t….say…another word.” He put his fingertips to his forehead.

“What’s wrong, Dedue? You said you wanted details. I haven’t even gotten to the good parts yet. We haven’t talked about Claude’s soft, sensual kiss…or his sweet touch in the mornings…” Dedue’s eyes shot up, not believing what he just heard.

“You…you’ve _kissed_ him!?” Dedue asked, appalled by this part of Byleth’s confession.

“Yes…I have.”

“That…” Dedue was flustered. “That’s completely different. I…I didn’t realize you’ve… _kissed_ him. Oh, Goddess…Do you love Claude?” Dedue asked, completely derailing this conversation. Byleth stared across the table. It was a catch twenty-two. There was no way Byleth could answer this question and come out of it with a satisfactory response. Maybe she did love Claude and perhaps that was why she caved and told Dimitri. What if guilt had nothing to do with it at all? Part of her wished she felt worse that what she did which led her to believe that she wasn’t exactly ready to throw in the towel on Claude.

“Are you seriously asking me this? If I tell you yes, you’re going to run to Dimitri and tell him I’m in love with another man. If I tell you no, you’re going to accuse me of lying. No matter how I answer that question, I lose.” Byleth pushed her chair away from the table but paused before standing up. “…and if I _did_ love Claude…what are you going to do about it?” Dedue searched for the words but he instead rubbed his neck nervously, occasionally glancing to Byleth.

“I think we’re done here, Dedue. Goodnight.” She said, standing up to walk away. Dedue stumbled over his words. They weren’t done! They weren’t even close!

“Pr…pro…professor! Wait! Wait, please wait!” Dedue begged of her. Byleth said nothing, instead leaving the Reception Hall before Dedue could pursue her.

* * *

Actions always speak louder than words. Byleth’s mind raced. The fact that she was entering Claude’s penthouse with him only a week after telling Dimitri of what she had been doing, didn’t speak…it _screamed_. Claude unlocked the door, greeted by the sight of Sharmayne on his couch with a _very_ attractive. Claude smiled at them, dripping from he and Byleth’s long walk.

“Shar…Amir.” He greeted the two, obviously knowing the man with her.

“I’m so very sorry! I didn’t know you were staying tonight. We can leave. We can…” Claude stopped Sharmayne.

“Shar, Shar…it’s fine. Stay. Amir, stop…sit back down…stay. It’s _pouring_ out there. Please, stay.” Claude never skimped on hospitality but now he was faced with the awkward introduction of Byleth as his…his….hiiiiissss…

“Amir, this is Byleth, Claude’s colleague and friend.” A few more moves like that and Sharmayne might prove herself to be as slick as Claude. He stood from the couch and greeted Byleth, taking her wet hands in his. She didn’t mean to stare but this man was _wow_. He had the softest, deepest, Almyran brown eyes Byleth had ever seen. She turned pink as he kissed the back of her hands.

“The pleasure is mine.” he greeted her. “Sharmayne and I picked up some wine. Will you join us?"

"Yes, of course! We uh…we need to change clothes. We’re pretty wet from the trip here.” Claude said.

“You do that. I’ll get your glasses.” Sharmayne said. Byleth had accumulated a fair amount of clothes in Claude’s penthouse. For someone who’s infidelity had been revealed only a week prior, she was shockingly content, but her overall demeanor couldn’t match Claude’s complete unphased attitude. As far as he was concerned, Dimitri was the loser in the end, and he had already predicted that Dimirti would lose everything. What did he have to be rattled about? Byleth closed the bedroom door behind she and Claude because she had to quiz him about the gorgeous man on Claude’s couch. Amir was Sharmayne’s boyfriend of a year and a half though she was only able to see him off and on. Right now was an on time. He was a ship hand from the East Almyra coast but currently working in Fòdlan because business was too slow, and the shipping routes blocked due to civil unrest in the waters managed by Sreng. This was only the second time Amir had ever been to Claude’s place. He felt odd making love to Sharmayne on guest room sheets that belonged to another man, but for as long as Claude had known Amir, he insisted it wasn’t a big deal. As for Priscilla? She wasn’t here. She was staying the night at a little friend’s house.

Claude had laid low over the past week at the monastery. _Very_ low. The House of Blue Lions had a silent bounty on Claude’s head. The way Dedue had kept an eye on his activities was especially unsettling. No one tried anything that would cause more trouble, but the unspoken undertones created a threatening atmosphere. And so, Claude spent the previous week sleeping with the wyverns, on Shamir and Catherine’s couch and…here. Byleth hadn’t exactly been immune either. It wasn’t like she could stay with Dimitri and she sure as hell wasn’t going to remain in her personal quarters once the news got around, but no one thought to check for her in Jeralt’s former office.

Byleth needed the distraction of wine with Claude, Sharmayne, and her beautiful lover. She needed _anything_ to get her mind of the fact that life back at the monastery would only become more complicated. She and Dimitri hadn’t resolved _anything_. Perhaps a week was too soon to start any kind of resolution. It also forced Byleth to think about the very real possibility that she and Dimitri were done as a couple. Was she actually ready to admit that out loud? It was one of the many questions she battled.

As the night grew later, Byleth had been completely charmed by Amir and Sharmayne’s dynamic. They were _so_ compatible. She wasn’t certain that she had ever had that level of compatibility with Dimitri. Sure, she had put him above anyone else in her life, but she was jealous because Sharmayne and Amir were so very comfortable with each other. Byleth couldn’t recall the last time she was comfortable with Dimitri. Neither Amir or Sharmayne questioned Claude’s hand on Byleth’s and she still wondered how much they really knew about her. When the four decided to call it a night, Byleth helped Sharmayne clean-up which is how she learned that her new favorite Almyran couple had been staying at Claude’s penthouse for three days and that Priscilla would likely have a lot of questions once Amir left for Almyra again. Once all the goodnights were said, the sanctuary of Claude’s familiar scent calmed Byleth.

She laid beside Claude listening to the rain, allowing her fingertips to graze his. He had remained so calm and unbothered about Byleth’s confession. “Tell me what’s on your mind.” He said softly. Byleth sighed contentedly. “You know I told Dimitri.”

“I know.” They were silent. It was too soon for Byleth to ask the thing she wanted to ask. And too late not to ask.

“What…happens…with us…if I were to leave Dimitri?” _That_ wasn’t the thing Byleth wanted to ask.

“If you left Dimitri, you and I would be a real couple. I would treat you the way you haven’t _ever_ been treated. I’ve said this once, I’ll say it again. Dimitri is not at all a bad guy. I like him…but I like you a _lot_ more.” Claude rolled over to his side, facing Byleth in the darkness. “I want you to be the queen of Almyra.” He whispered.

“You…want me to…what? Claude…that’s…you know I can’t do that.” Byleth insisted.

“Why not? There’s no reason you can’t be my queen. You and I together, could unite Fòdlan. You would not have to chase after a man who can’t be trusted to take care of himself. If you were my queen…my wife…we would do amazing things for this country. Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you? How long I’ve loved you from the other side of the room? You don’t know what that’s like…to watch another man pull the rug out from under you.” Byleth sniffed, feeling tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Claude…” she said, referring to a time long before she and Dimitri had ever become a couple. A time when she had the legitimate chance to _be_ with Claude for real…a chance that, for whatever reason, she hadn’t taken.

“Hey, hey, hey…sssshhhhh…” Claude took her in his arms. “I didn’t say that for you to take any blame. It’s not like that. The timing wasn’t right. I…I did _not_ mean it that way.” Byleth let Claude tighten his arms around her. “Look at me…” he said softly, taking her face in his palms and focusing his eyes on her in the darkness. Once Byleth’s eyes adjusted to the dark, she could see Claude’s fixated on hers. “I’m going to tell you something and…You don’t have to say anything because I know this has been…a hell of a week. I just want you hear me out…” Claude paused, feeling Byleth nod in his hands. “…I love you.” his voice was so fragile, so vulnerable…so sincere.


	16. Waking Up with the House on Fire

August. August was so hot, so humid…just miserable. It was the biggest celebration day of the month: The Garreg Mach Academia Festival which was a celebration of the beginning the academic year. The official first day of the academic year didn’t begin until August 29. Today was August 23rd. Even though the sun was low in the sky, the air was still heavy with the heat from the day.

“Damn. Would you look at this rock?” Ingrid asked.

“It’s beautiful. Felix has class.” Lysithea said.

“It’s huge. A ring like this makes me feel like Felix is overcompensating for something. Deep pockets. Small dick. Am I right, Dorothea?” Dorothea laughed.

“I’d trade a big dick for deep pockets and class any day....that's why it works out so well with Lorenz. Well done, Dorothea. Way to prioritize.” Lysithea said seriously, examining Dorothea’s ring with Ingrid. Ingrid laughed with Dorothea.

"Are you saying Lorenz is _lacking_ in those snappy lavender trousers?" Ingrid asked. 

"Ugh...I _hate_ those pants...but I _love_ what's in 'em!" Lysithea gritted her teeth when she said it. "Am I right, Dorothea? Big things...small packages?" Dorothea couldn't stop laughing at Lysithea. 

“No! No! there is no...I promise you…Felix’s dick is _fine_. There is no…overcompensating of anything.”

“Hey, did you two ever finish counseling?” Ingrid asked.

“Thank Goddess, we did!” Dorothea sighed. “I’m sure going to miss all the sexual tension counseling created. Do you know, I had to re-schedule my voice lessons with Ferdinand because of it? We’d go to counseling, get all hot and bothered and…” Dorothea shook her head. “…I’m telling you…getting laid in the afternoon…wow. Felix even changed his _training_ schedule because it’s _that_ good.”

“Afternoon sex is the best. It's even better when you don't have to be somewhere.” Lysithea agreed. Somehow, she and Lorenz had gone from almost entirely dysfunctional to _highly_ compatible in the last month and a half.

"What did you actually learn in the process?" Ingrid asked, spreading out another blanket over the grassy area they had claimed for the evening.

“I learned that Felix and I didn’t need counseling and I learned that you can make a marriage counselor really uncomfortable by wearing a low cut shirt and repeatedly touching your neck. Lysithea laughed.

“Speaking of shirts and guys who look fantastic without one…should we discuss Dimitri? I mean, I wish I could say I haven’t been intentionally eye fucking him around the monastery but _Goddess_!”

“Why didn’t the pro…. _Byleth_ recruit this woman when she had the chance?” Dorothea asked, Ingrid loud enough for Lysithea to hear.

“Look, she was goin’ through a _lot_ of shit when recruitment happened. We could have used another mage.” Ingrid said.

“Yeah, well, it’s probably good she didn’t because if I were a Blue Lion it would be insanely difficult to keep from drooling over Dimitri’s perfect body.”

Dimitri…had done wonders with his body over the past month and a half. He. Looked. _Incredible._ So good in fact, that all of his armor had to be completely scrapped and refitted. Since working with Dedue, Dimitri had gone from his measly, underweight, 150 pounds to a perfectly proportioned, defined, 183 pounds. At his latest physical, Mercedes had Dimitri ranked in the top three healthiest body mass indexes in the entire monastery. His diet and workout-routine were ideal, and his physical and mental state were evidence.

The Blue Lions, as a House, had faced some very difficult challenges in the past month. No one in the House discussed what had occurred and tonight it wouldn't come up in conversation. With its fireworks and festivities, tonight was the one time to forget all the drama that had plagued the House. The blankets spread over the ground, awaiting the food and alcohol that would soon cover them was a much-needed distraction before the beginning of the academic year and the changes that the Blue Lions would soon endure. 

“Dimitri is a man with deep pockets _and_ a big dick. I mean…I’m…guessing. But, I know how I can find out for sure. Ingrid, Dimitri and Sylvain are about the same height...so with that being said...what can you tell me?”

“Stop! You are killing me! I can’t believe you are saying these words!” Ingrid said, unable to control her laughter. Dorothea leaned over against Ingrid. Lysithea sighed.

“Damn it. Ingrid, here come the boys. Ingrid, we'll discuss Sylvain's dick later." Lysithea finally did her part and spread out a third blanket over the grass, making a common middle area to put the food. 

“Ingrid! Ingrid! Which would you rather have? Flowers or an entire rotisserie chicken?” Sylvain asked, sitting beside Ingrid on the blanket and letting the weight of the full bags fall to the ground. Shit, she couldn't keep a straight face and look Sylvain in the eye now that Lysithea happened. 

“Are they the same cost?” Ingrid asked trying to conceal her laughter.

“Yes. 7G.” Sylvain answered, pulling a bottle of white wine from the bag. Ingrid didn’t have to think about her answer.

“The chicken.” She said confidently.

“Ha! _Felix!_ I told you she’d pick the….” Sylvain paused, reaching into the bag, pulling out a round item, obviously warm to the touch and covered in butcher’s paper. “… _savory rotisserie chicken!”_ He placed it in the middle of the blankets

“Oooooooh Sylvain! You _seriously_ brought me a rotisserie chicken!?”

“Yes, I did, baby. Dumb ass Felix wanted me to get you flowers.” Sylvain said, motioning for Felix to throw him the wine corkscrew. Felix put his bags down and reached into his pocket, tossing it in Sylvain’s direction.

“I’m sorry, Ingrid. It’s evident I don’t know you at all as a person. Now, Dee, I got you flowers…they are currently in our dorm in a vase of water.”

“You did!? Sweet of you!” she said sincerely as Felix sat down beside her.

“Lysithea...as you requested!” Lorenz said, handing over 24 count cupcakes in a large box to Lysithea. She could have eaten them all by herself, but it was a celebration and she was willing to share.

"Ah, don't forget...vegetable pasta salad and Prosecco!" Lorenz said, adding to the blanket. "And, since we _are_ celebrating the beginning of the academic year, I brought the _good_ wine glasses and the flutes for the Prosecco! I also managed to get plates and silverware from the dining hall." Lorenz was so proud of himself.

And with Lorenz's fabulous presentation, this party had officially begun. 

“Guess what?” Sylvain asked Ingrid quietly.

“What?” she asked.

“I get to be in Felix’s wedding, and you don’t!” Sylvain handed Ingrid a glass of wine.

“Oh yeah? I was asked to be in the wedding over a month ago.” She said, raising her eyebrows. 

“What!? You stole my thunder!" Sylvain said. Ingrid lowered her voice.

"I will let you have your thunder...fuck, you can have the _entire_ storm if you do one thing for me." Ingrid said.

"I'm ready." Sylvain said, beyond intrigued. 

"Pull Lysithea over here and, as softly as you can...tell her...you're bigger than Dimitri." Sylvain was confused. 

"What? I'm not bigger than him, he's got like, eight pounds on me and....oooooooh we aren't talking about _that_ kind of bigger are we? Alright, this is gonna' be fun!" Sylvain spun around on the blanket. "Lysithea, bring me a cupcake and come over here, please." She did as she was asked only for Sylvain to pull her face down to his. He put his hand on her face and pulled her ear to his lips. Lysithea then pulled her face away, eyeing Sylvain up and down. She nodded in approval. He gave her his best smile. "I'm practically perfect!"

"Damn...you would be if only you kept your mouth shut." Lysithea antagonized. 

"Believe me, you wouldn't want him to." Ingrid added quickly Lysithea screeched and turned pink. 

"Okay, okay, just..pour me some wine and I'm sitting myself back down over there!" Ingrid laughed, more than pleased with the whole thing. Before she could say anything the evening was interrupted by a a red burst overhead.

"Huh. I didn't think those were supposed to happen for another half hour." Ingrid raised her glass. "To you and me and your thunder!" Ingrid said, clanking her glass into Sylvain's.

* * *

Hubert watched Edelgard warmly, pulling her hair away from her face. “Can you believe it? Our last nine months at this monastery…and it all begins in five days.”

“I know. Hard to believe where the time goes.” Edelgard said.

“I think you and I need to have a serious discussion about our future together. We haven’t made any firm decisions, El.” He said. “You know how long it’s going to take to prepare the Imperial Castle to…”

“I know! I know how long it takes but…” Edelgard said, pulling away from Hubert.

“But what?” He pressed her. Edelgard sighed, wishing she could push Hubert off the edge of this stone wall that overlooked the marketplace. They wanted a good view for the fireworks, but they had to take what was left because all of the good places were already taken.

“You’re…the only man I’ve ever been with.” Edelgard said. Hubert looked at her curiously.

“Wha…what are…you saying?” he asked. Edelgard shrugged.

“I…don’t know.” She answered. Looking away from him.

“Do you… _want_ to be with another man?” he questioned further.

“It’s not that…I… _want_ to.” Edelgard, said, still not making eye contact. Hubert reached an arm around around her, turning her head toward him.

“Do you…need to be with another man…to be sure about you and me? Goddess, it’s been three years.”

“I slept with Petra.” Edelgard blurted out. Hubert chuckled.

“I believe we both have…” he softly reminded her, leaning his head against hers. Edelgard pushed him away.

“I don’t mean…like _that_. I mean that Petra and I…we started…fooling around or…whatever several months ago. When you accused me of sleeping with someone else? It wasn’t another man…it was her. So, we…met up…a lot…for two months or something…then we started having threesomes and I thought it would be weird but it…wasn’t weird and you were okay with things and…” Edelgard exhaled heavily, wishing the fireworks would just start so she wouldn’t have to discuss this.

“You slept with Petra…without telling me about it? You two were together before…. _we_ were together? And by we, I mean you, me…her?” Hubert questioned.

“Yeah…I did.” Edelgard nodded.

“Edelgard, what does this _mean_?” Hubert asked, which was fair. Edelgard huffed. In her relationship, everything was backward. She and Hubert had been together for so long. Yes, it had been three years since they had become a couple, but Hubert had been involved in Edelgard's life in some capacity for a minimum of eight years. She didn’t know anything but him. It wasn’t that she didn’t _not_ love Hubert, but she wasn’t madly ‘in love’ with him either. She didn’t have that kind of love for him that was so blissfully promised to her in reading stories as a child. For as long as they were together, Edelgard knew she would eventually marry Hubert. Now that the reality of it was far closer than it had ever been before…she battled feelings…wondering if Hubert really was ‘the one.’ Of course, ‘the one’ couldn’t be Petra either…the Empire would never have it.

Edelgard vividly remembered her eighteenth birthday celebration. Hubert had organized the whole thing. She recalled, that evening, how she had unexpectedly fantasized about a woman in attendance at her party. She didn’t know what it was about _that_ particular night, but it was the first time her intruding fantasy caught her completely unprepared. She wasn’t hungry for Hubert or cake that night….Edelgard wanted _that woman._ After that night, she buried the whole thing and never mentioned a word about it: Until Petra made those feelings re-emerge. Right now, she was forced to make a confession…to herself: being attracted to men _and_ women was just fine and she shouldn't be ashamed of it.

“It…it just means…I think…I’m attracted to you… _and_ Petra.” Edelgard said. Hubert looked off into the distance, watching the evening fade to dusky purple. He put a hand on Edelgard’s.

“Have I ever told you that I once had feelings for Ferdinand?” _That_ caught Edelgard by surprise.

“You what?” She asked.

“Yes. It was a few years ago. And those feelings of course, weren’t reciprocated beyond friendship but it certainly brought us closer after I told him.” Edelgard was baffled by Hubert’s admission.

“Ferdinand is so…sickeningly nice. I’m shocked he didn’t let you come on to him to keep from hurting your feelings. So, what _does...that_ mean? Have you ever been with a man?” Hubert laughed.

“No, no I haven't. Ferdinand was the only man I have thought about...that way.”

"I wish you would have told me about that." Edelgard said. Hubert sighed.

“Aaah, El. I always want to talk to you, but you don’t ever want to talk. I want to talk to you all the time and always have. But through the years, you've tried to put a barrier between you and I. And though I don’t much care for your dishonesty about you and Petra, I can’t be angry with you either…it would make me a hypocrite.” Hubert reached an arm around Edelgard, pulling her over against him. “I do love you Edelgard. Please. Talk to me. It doesn't even have to beabout the furture. Just _please_ let me in a little.” He whispered, leaning his head against hers. The first firework of the evening pierced the blue/black sky, leaving in its wake a crackle and a burst of red.” Edelgard put her hand on his arm.

“After the fireworks…we’ll get some scotch and talk until morning. How’s that?” It was the first endearing words she had said to Hubert in some time, and she wasn’t avoiding him; she meant it. He smiled.

“As You wish.”

* * *

The three people who should have definitely not been drinking tonight, were drinking more than _anyone_ else. “No! The order is red, blue, multi, green, white, yellow!” Shamir sternly reprimanded Seteth.

“Who says there has to be an order?” he questioned.

“What dipshit sets off two blue fireworks in a row… _Seteth_?” Catherine asked, handing Shamir the fireworks in the appropriate order.

“Yeah… _Seteth…”_ Shamir repeated.

“Okay, okay, fine. You’re right. That’s…stupid. Don’t forget, low ones first, then mid-range, and then the ones that detonate high. Everything in the box we haven’t unpacked are reserved for the finale.” He explained. Catherine scoffed.

“Hey, speaking of finales…who’s calling you daddy tonight? Huh?” Catherine raised her eyebrows repeatedly at Seteth. He glared at her.

“My daughter…” he said, expressionless.

“You’re no fun Seteth. This is a celebration! YOU are boring. It’s time Seteth. It’s time for you to put yourself out there… spread yourself around…plant your seed in…”

“Okay, okay, okay…I…get…where you are going with this. I’m not sleeping with anyone tonight!” Seteth stopped arranging the fireworks and put his hands on his forehead.

“It’s the beginning of _another_ academic year that you aren’t fucking someone. You have more pent up sexual tension than Felix did before he got with Arnault! You know what you need? A good, old-fashioned blow job!”

“CATHERINE! I’m not like _you!_.” Seteth accused, taking another drink of champagne.

“Of course you’re not…you’re anything but a lesbian.” Seteth sighed.

“You girls are the reason my blood pressure runs high.”

“Your blood pressure runs high because you aren’t getting LAID! Should we open more champagne?” Catherine said

“The answer to that is always yes!” Shamir interjected. “And, she’s right! Do you ever stop and wonder why Catherine and I don’t have high blood pressure?” Shamir slung an arm around Catherine and gave Seteth a wink. Seteth shook his head.

“I…have plenty of visuals. Alright…. alright….you two are very transparent with your lives around me…so….I want to tell you something. It's something no one knows about.” Seteth paused, having moved the box of fireworks reserved for the finale into place.

“Are you ready?” he antagonized.

“You’re going to tell us you’re closeted gay, aren’t you?” Shamir asked.

“What!? No! I….uuuggghh…Shamir…I’m talking to someone!” he said, half exasperated but unable to hide his grin. 

“Noooooo shit! Whaaaaaat!

“Ooooooooooh SETETH!” Catherine and Shamir exclaimed simultaneously.

“Okay, okay….this bottle…” Catherine said, holding up the bottle of champagne, “….We pop this bad boy for you!” Catherine sent the cork flying.

“So, while she pours…give us details. We want details!” Shamir begged.

“There’s not much to tell right now. She’s educated, a delightful conversationalist, interested in the arts and knows her way around cognac. I think you would approve.”

“You went after a fancy one, didn’t you?” Catherine asked.

“You should arrange a four-way cognac date. You, her, me, Catherine. It will be weird for her. It will be fantastic. I can hear it now…hello, Seteth’s dates, I’m Shamir, this is my life-partner Catherine…tell us about cognac.” Shamir demonstrated.

“Listen, no date of mine will be okay if she isn’t okay with being around you two.” Seteth said. Shamir was moved.

“Seteth! That’s the sweetest…” Shamir’s thought was interrupted.

“Waaaaaaaait just a minute…yes, Seteth, that's really noble of you. But, your _life partner…Shamir?_ I'm your life partner?” Catherine questioned. That certainly created a silence.

“Um…” Shamir struggled to fill in the blanks that would be the rest of that sentence. “Um….” She repeated. “So, I’ve had a lot of champagne and…in my mind I…just…kind of figured…you and I would always be together soooo…I mentally refer to you as my life partner.” Standing behind a row of pyrotechnics probably wasn’t the best time to have this conversation.

“Shamir!” Seteth said, charmed by her confession. Shamir had trouble with emotions, which is probably why Catherine did so well with her. After loving Petra to the fullest, only to get burned, she did her best to dial down her feelings….except after a bottle and a half of champagne. She loved Catherine…. _loved_ her more than she ever thought possible. That kind of emotion was nearly impossible for her to convey…so she let Seteth do it for her.

“So, Shamir…what I hear is that you wish to spend your life with Catherine?” A statement like that had to be followed up with downing any champagne left in the flute…. which is precisely what Shamir did.

“Um…yeeeeeeaaah. That’s…that’s a true story.” She said. “Fuck it…Catherine. I love you. I would love to be your life partner if you'll have me. And I'm going to start referring to you as my life partner unless you tell me not to.” Shamir said.

“You're too kind!” Catherine blushed. "Now I'm feeling a bit shy." Catherine said, unable to hide her soft smile. She wasn’t one to gush and right now, she was gushing.

“Wait…. wait…wait, wait.” Seteth interjected. “Is that a proposal?”

"No, I mean...I don't guess so. It's not like we can ever get married." Shamir rolled her eyes and held out her glass for a refill.

“Right, like that’s going to happen. I’m sure there are ordained ministers all across Fódlan just dying to unite two women in the eyes of the church.” Catherine said.

“She’s right. She’s right! No one would do that. But I’m damn happy to know that...we are going to be together.” Shamir said, throwing an arm around Shamir. Seteth smiled that grin that he reserved for times when he knew he could overtake a situation and win.

“You know…. _I…_ am an ordained minister and…I… _might_ be able to…you know…marry the two of you.” Catherine exchanged a dumbfounded stare with Shamir.

“You…you… _what_!?” Catherine finally semi-shouted. Seteh nodded, downing the rest of his champagne.

“And to think, Catherine! You thought I was just a pretty face.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa…okay, first…no, no I most certainly didn’t think you were just a pretty face! I also think you like to be called Daddy in bed!” Catherine divulged. Seteth shook his head and refilled his glass.

“Just for that, we’re lighting the first of the fireworks.” He threatened lighting the torch.

“No! Seteth, no! It’s too early! Catherine didn’t mean what she said about the daddy fetish…except that I also probably think that’s true.” Shamir said.

“Alright, since everybody’s throwing it all on the table…” Seteth lit the first firework only for it to go soaring from its stand, into the sky. As it exploded overhead, he turned around. “I wouldn’t _discourage_ it…if the opportunity came up.

“HA! I knew it!" Catherine proclaimed triumphantly.

"Alright. We'll do it in my office." Seteth said. 

"I've always dreamed of you saying that exact thing to me." Catherine said. Seteth sent another firework into the sky. He gave Catherine a look of disenchantment. 

"In my office! If you two are serious, I will sign the document that will bind you to each other's shortcomings." Seteth promised. Truthfully, it was the grandest gesture he could give. The friendship between the three of them had done more for Seteth than for Catherine or Shamir. Had it not been for Claude's wyvern eggs, Seteth may have not opened his view of the world. He had a reputation for being strait-laced, stoic, no-nonsense and borderline prude. He appreciated Catherine and Shamir’s view of the world, their talents, their devotion, and the fact that they were not only lovers, but best friends. Seteth took it upon himself to send the next firework into the night sky, just for them.

* * *

The horses _hated_ fireworks. It got them so nervous and restless. Because of that, Ferdinand had made the decision to stay at the stables. If he saw that any of them were getting upset, he had a pile of raw chamomile ready to throw into the stalls and calm them down. All he needed to do was hold it under their nose, and throw some at their hooves. It helped to induce sleep and calm. It was so dark at the stables with the exception of the lanterns that hung at the stall entrances.

“Here we go!” Mercedes said excitedly. “I have cheese, olives, some dried fruit, preserves and…” Mercedes couldn’t hide her excitement as she opened up a smoking box. “Smoked Oysters! Dedue made them! He got the oysters at the market this morning.” Ferdinand gasped.

“Mercedes!”

“I know!” she said excitedly, shaking her fists.

“I don’t know where to begin! This is fantastic!” Ferdinand looked concerned. “Are you sure you want to stay here with me? We won’t be able to see the fireworks well.” The way Mercedes put her arms around Ferdinand and kissed him was all the answer he needed.

“This is my only night off for the next six nights and there’s no place I’d rather be than right here with you.” Mercedes promised him. Ferdinand was touched. He sighed.

“I am the luckiest man.” He said. “Now, I want to show you…what I have.” He said, raising his eyebrows. Ferdinand reached for Mercedes’ hand and led her into the stables. He reached into a bag sitting atop a shelf near the doorway, pulling a bottle to present to her. Mercedes was delighted.

“Brandy!?” she asked, admiring the smooth, glass bottle.

“Yes! Let me pour you a glass.” Ferdinand assured her. Mercedes was enchanted. The horses were so content, and the stables were a cool contrast to the still warm evening. She followed Ferdinand to the makeshift table where she had placed the oysters, and the rest of the celebratory food. She watched as Ferdinand broke the seal on the Brandy and poured their glasses. “To you, the most genuine woman I know.” he said, raising his glass and kissing Mercedes before tasting the brandy. Mercedes felt adored.

“Ferindand!" she said, blushing. "I’ve never had brandy before.” Mercedes said, opening up the smokebox and offering Ferdinand an oyster. 

“Do you like it?” he asked. Mercedes didn’t entirely hear the question because she was too focused on the way Ferdinand sucked that oyster in one, flawless motion.

“Yes. Thank you for the suggestion.”

Mercedes didn’t get to spend the time she wished with Ferdinand and she certainly thought she would be at the infirmary during tonight’s celebration. Over the past few months Mercedes had fallen so in love with him. Ferdinand was so good to her and so very tolerant of her unpredictable schedule. Mercedes wanted to tell him, but she was going to need at least half a dozen oysters and another brandy to make that happen. They were able to take the evening to catch up with the events of the week prior.

The dusk around them had turned to nightfall and the brandy, half gone. The first of the fireworks exploded overhead and shortly thereafter, the sound of an irritated horse and the subsequent kicking of a stall. Now, Ferdinand was going to have to go deal with this good and buzzed…okay, maybe… _more_ than just buzzed. Mercedes’ eyes grew wide in the soft lantern light. “Ooooh! I think she’s upset!” Ferdinand nodded.

“Refill the glasses and join me. I’ll go calm her.” Ferdinand said slurping up one of the last oysters before standing up only to feel the brandy hit hard. He had a chain reaction on his hands. Once one of the horses became upset, all six of them would get upset. Mercedes gathered the glasses and brandy, focusing her attention to the sky above. As fantastic as the fireworks were, the horses disagreed. Mercedes stepped into the barn.

“They certainly are unhappy, aren’t they? She asked, sitting the Brandy on the shelf near the door and refilling the glasses.

“They are but won’t be for long.” Ferdinand could calm these horses relatively easily. The chamomile did wonders for them and a handful of sugar cubes didn’t hurt. But he also had a way with them. His patient demeanor settled the horses and made them content. Watching him soothe each of them, some longer than others, Mercedes had only one thought in her brandy-soaked mind: ‘how the hell did Ferdinand become the horse whisperer and why did he have to be so sexy while doing it? FUCK!’ And Mercedes _never_ said fuck…not in her mind or out loud. She swallowed hard.

“Ferdinand…” she started. “He looked in her direction, his hand still on Dorte’s muzzle. “I love you…and…and it’s not just because you’re so good with the horses and it’s not because you are so sexy and it’s not because you…” Mercedes shook her head and took a deep breath. “I…love you and…and…I am going to fuck you right here on those horse blankets in the hay.” Mercedes let out a nervous breath, relieved to get that out. Ferdinand was speechless, his hand motionless on Dorte’s muzzle. His heavy, cotton jacket suddenly felt excruciatingly hot. Finally, after seconds that seemed like minutes, he blinked.

“I…I love you too…and that is the filthiest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Ferdinand struggled to undo the top button of his jacket.

“I know it is. I’m sorry.” Mercedes said, feeling flustered all over.

“No, no. No, no….no. Don’t apologize. You…speak as…filthy to me as you want. I… _really_ don’t mind.” Ferdinand nodded. It would have been so much more passionate had Mercedes just went for it instead of laying out all her plans. But, love her heart, she didn’t have the guts. Regardless. Talk about a grand finale.

* * *

“Hey.” A voice called to Claude, stepping out onto the balcony.

“Hey, ooooh what do you have there?” Claude asked, taking the drink from Sharmayne.

“Strawberry lemonade.” She answered, leaning over against the balcony and looking in the direction Claude was facing. He took a drink.

“Mmm…” he mumbled. “…and what _else_ is in it?” Sharmayne laughed.

“There might be some vodka.” She confessed. “Why aren’t you at your celebration tonight?” Claude shook his head.

“It’s…best I stay away. I’ll explain more later.” Claude said, taking another drink.

“Okay. Should um…should Priscilla and I leave this evening?” she asked bluntly.

“No. Byleth won’t be here tonight. Just you, me and Priscilla.”

“You love her…Byleth.” Sharmayne said, taking a drink from her own glass. Claude nodded and turned to face Sharmayne.

“Yeah…yeah, I do love ‘er.” Claude swirled his glass. “Shar…there are…some things you don’t know about Byleth…how I know her…things like that. So, you and I…we need to talk sometime.” Sharmayne nodded.

“Sure. Whatever you need.” Before their conversation could continue, the doorway to the balcony opened up and a wet-headed Priscilla appeared.

“Did I miss it!?” she asked.

“Miss what?” Sharmayne asked.

“The fireworks! Claude said there would be fireworks tonight!” Sharmayne looked to Claude after Priscilla shared the information.

“That’s right! You haven’t missed them. C’mere! They’ve barely started.” Claude sat his drink aside and motioned to her. Priscilla outstretched her arms and Claude picked her up, sitting her on the thick balcony ledge. “Scoot back. There you go.” Claude said, putting one arm around her. Priscilla hooked her hand around Claude’s arm, wet hair pressing into his shoulder.

“And what are these fireworks celebrating?” Sharmayne asked, running her fingers through Priscilla’s wet hair.

“The beginning of the academic year at Garreg Mach Monastery.” He explained.

“Well! You two enjoy. I’m going to go get a shower and I’ll join you for the end.” Sharmayne said, leaving Claude and Pricilla alone.

“Okay, you have to watch closely. When the next one shoots off, you have to make a wish.” Claude explained to her, referring to the next batch of fireworks. Priscilla laughed.

“That’s silly.” She argued.

“It’s not silly!” Claude fought her.

“Yes. It’s silly. Besides, my wish already came true.” She said.

“It did, huh? Since it already came true you can tell me what it is.” Claude said.

“Amir’s gonna’ be my dad!” Priscilla whispered to Claude. He side-eyed the little girl.

“Excuse me, Little Miss? What did you just say?” She giggled.

“He is!” Priscilla repeated.

“And just what makes you so sure of that?” Claude asked her.

“Becaaaaauuse, he asked me if I trusted him and I said yes, and he asked me if I knew that he loved me, and mommy and I said yes and then he said he wanted to marry mommy and be my dad! And then I said I would like it if he were my dad because we always do fun things together!” she explained. Claude grinned ear to ear.

“Reeeeeally? And what about me? Huh? You’re just…done with me?” Prsicilla giggled again.

“Nooo! You’re not my dad!” she accused.

“No, I’m not but don’t you forget who taught you how to do stuff!” Claude’s train of thought was interrupted by the first fireworks of the grand finale. As promised, Sharmayne returned on cue. “We’ll talk about this later.” Claude threatened Priscilla. The sky in the distance was lit up like the dawn.

“Impressive!” Sharmayne observed, watching flash after flash, towering higher in the sky with each boom. The white smoke hung just below the where the next set was detonated as not to cloud the colors. It was loud, the balcony reverberated with each burst of color. Priscilla was tickled. She clapped after the last boom; the haze filled sky marking the official new academy year. “Well?” Sharmayne asked, her hand on Priscilla’s back.

“I like them!” Priscilla approved.

“You better! My trainer put those together!” Claude said, giving Priscilla a shake. “Give me a hug, it’s getting late and you need to get to bed.” He lifted her off the balcony edge, het bare feet hitting cool stone. “I’m happy Amir is going to be your dad.” He whispered. Her face lit up and Priscilla took off inside.

“Goodnight, baby. I’ll be in shortly.” Shar called to her. “Why are you staring at me with that stupid look on your face?” She questioned Claude’s smile as she picked up her drink.

“What’s this I hear about you and Amir getting married?” Sharmayne looked up suddenly.

“Oooooh, Priscilla...” she laughed. “Um…yes, yes we…had a talk…and…”

“Shar…. seriously, when Amir is off the ships how do you two have _any_ time to talk? The only words I’ve ever heard you say are ‘don’t stop’.”

“I’ll push you right over that balcony ledge, wanna’ see?” Sharmayne threatened, handing Claude another drink.

“No! I want details!

“The details are, Amir was in town for three days a couple weeks ago. He’s…. losing his job temporarily. The shipping routes are just too volatile near Sreng. It’s too dangerous for the fishermen and cargo can’t be moved right now. So, he’s coming to town at the end of the month and he hopes he can find work on the various construction projects happening. But you know how talented he is…it shouldn’t be a problem. What kills me is…Amir had been saving all the money he made for… this.” Sharmayne said, presenting her hand to Claude and revealing the emerald on her finger.

“Heeeey, look at you! Damn, you landed you a good man didn’t you. Let me see that.” Claude took her hand examining the stone. “I’m happy for ya’.” Claude rubbed his thumb against her finger. “Well, since he’s your fiancé and all, Amir’s welcome to stay here."

"Nooo, no. I very, very much appreciate that but. It's just...too intrusive." she said.

"It's not at all. I don't mind. Because, I can definitely use his help.”

“With what?” Sharmayne questioned. Claude smiled.

“You’ll see.”

* * *

The Goddess Tower was quiet tonight. Not a soul was present aside from Byleth, who sat on the stone ledge, watching the smoke hang in the air from the last fireworks in the distance. She took a deep breath, the smell of burning wind and powder from the fireworks invading her senses. She was lost deep in her racing thoughts. Byleth didn’t attend any of the festivities of the day or the evening. For the past almost five weeks, she had attempted to gather her thoughts and collect her bearings. She hadn’t spoken with Dimitri at all except through Dedue. But tonight? Dimitri wanted to meet at the Goddess Tower. He and Byleth had much unfinished business. Her heart leapt into her throat at the sight of him coming up the stairway. He looked… _good_.

Dimitri stopped at the top of the stairs, taking in the sight of Byleth who was frozen where she stood. She didn’t think tonight would be awkward but as he stood there in the gentle light of the lanterns, Byleth realized she wasn’t sure how this meeting would go and of all the thoughts she had rehearsed…she didn’t know what to say. So, she acted on impulse. “Hi…” she choked out.

“Hi…” he repeated softly. He walked toward Byleth, stopping before her, his eyes fixed on hers.

“You…you look great. You do. I can…I can tell you’re…you’re doing well.” Byleth said, trying her best to swallow the lump swelling in her throat again.

“Thank you. I am…doing well but…it’s…thanks to…how much you…how much you…cared for me. How you didn’t give up. You never turned your back on me, not once.”

“Until I did…” Byleth answered immediately. “You’re right…I didn’t give up on you…until I did. I didn’t turn my back on you…until I did. I let you down, Dimitri. I’m sorry. I let you down as a caregiver, I let you down as a House leader but above all else, I let you down as a partner. _i...completely_ turned my back on you. You’re the only man I’ve ever loved…” Byleth sniffed. “I…never thought something…some _one_ would come between us. I just…I want you to know that I take full ownership of…destroying everything you and I had.” Byleth finished. Dimitri watched Byleth’s expression, seeing sincerity in her words. There was a part of him that wanted to take Byleth in his arms and pretend as if nothing had ever happened between them. However, he had to remain grounded. He could _not_ let his emotions run away with him.

“I’m sorry too. I was _very_ hard on you. I fought you on the medicine. I never thanked you once. I took and I never gave. I never told you that I loved you.” Dimitri paused and took a shuddered breath. “But…I can’t…I can’t get passed it, Byleth…you know that. There’s...there's so much I could...put behind us. There's so much I could...get passed…but…not this. Maybe...if it were someone else but...not him.” Dimitri couldn’t fight his tears any longer.

“I know…” Byleth answered, looking up to the moon above as tears streaked her face. They each needed a moment. Byleth wiped her face.

“I…I don’t want to stay mad at you forever…but for now, I am. You and I…we…we need to remain civil. You never know, I might need a favor from the one I called my professor…and my beloved, someday.” That was all Dimitri needed to say to completely break Byleth. She nodded in agreement.

“I don’t…want you stay mad at me either.” Byleth wiped her eyes again. "Dimitri I..." Dimitri waited on bated breath for Byleth to finish that sentence, but she couldn't. She simply couldn't fine the words...there were far too many. Dimitri swallowed hard and reached into his pocket, pulling out an envelope and extending his hand to Byleth. She focused her attention from the sky to the envelope.

“Don’t open it now.” Dimitri said, turing and walking away before he or Byleth could say anything else to make this situation any more painful than what it already was. As he descended the staircase, Byleth wept. The abyss in her stomach wretched. One man walked away from her and another…was waiting. She sniffed and examined the envelope in her hands, the Garreg Mach wax seal, obviously unbroken.

Byleth could only assume that what she held was Dimitri’s goodbye letter. She moved closer to the soft glow of the lantern above and closed her eyes, trying to steady trembling hands. She broke the wax seal, pulling out the contents. Her eyes widened and she felt as if she were about to throw up. It wasn’t a goodbye letter at all but a formal discharge letter. She couldn’t believe it. She could _not_ believe what she was holding…yet at the same time, she deserved it:

To Byleth Eisner, who has so dutifully provided wisdom and guidance to the House of Blue Lions under the direction and support of Dimitri A. Blaiddyd:

You are hear-by being formally released of your instructional position within Garreg Mach Monastery under the following termination grounds:

Compromised Moral Integrity/Irreconcilable Leadership Differences

This letter serves as written statement to request your formal resign your position as Professor, relinquish any accrued monetary provisions from the Church of Serios and vacate Garreg Mach Monastery premises prior to midnight, August 28. Effective August 29, your duties to the House of Blue Lions will be fulfilled by Cassandra Rubens Charon. While it is with deep sorrow to render a termination decision; it is believed to be necessary for the progress and success of the House of Blue Lions. Should you wish to file an appeal or otherwise challenge the above stated decision, you must submit your appeal in writing to Seteth no later September 22 of the current academic calendar year.

Decision Rendered: Termination of Position/Discharge from Premises

Policy Violation: Moral Integrity/Irreconcilable Differences

Grievance File Date: August 10

Decision Date: August 20

Date Delivered: August 23

Grievance Filed: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd

Knight of Serios Witness: Alois Rangeld

House Witness: Dedue Molinaro

Signatures Below This Line Constitute Agreement with the Above Stated Decision:

Dimitri Blaiddyd Dedue Molinaro

Sylvain José Gautier Felix H. Fraldarius

Ingrid Galatea Dorothea Arnault

Ashe Ubert Annette Dominic

Ferdinand von Aegir Cassandra Charon

My signature indicates an understanding of the charges filed against me.

I herein acknowledge that the decision information was presented to me within 30 days of grievance file. 

Signature:_____________________________________

Byleth’s emotions had gone from sadness, to pain, to relief to anger in a matter of moments. When a grievance was filed against a Garreg Mach faculty member, a House required a fifty percent agreement from its participates to proceed. The number included any recruited members from other Houses. The Blue Lions had an overwhelming 98% support. The only two signatures not collected was that of Mercedes, who legally, could not sign the Grievance due to her involvement in Dimitri’s medical care which could cause an issue of duel relationship. The other signature was that of Lorenz, who did not sign because of his need to protect the interests of House Gloucster in the event it came under Claude’s control. The Grievance also required one Church of Seiros signature that wasn’t the witness. Seeing as she had been nominated by Felix to run the House, Catherine, with a heavy heart, signed the Grievance.

Byleth was _so_ angry…She wanted to take it all out on Claude, because she had just lost it all and he sure as hell better be fucking worth burning down the House. But, as much as she wanted to scream at Claude right now, she was the only one to blame. From the time her infidelity began, Byleth took all the risks. She took every possible chance an infidel could take. 


	17. This is a Man's World

Ingrid hated first year academy girls. It wasn’t that she hated _them._ What she hated was the way they drooled over Sylvain. She also didn’t understand how they figured out so quickly that Sylvain had a crest and cash. Then, there was the part that creeped her out…the fact that Sylvain had ten years on some of these academy girls and yet they _still_ looked at him like the freshest piece of meat available from the market butcher. The last thing she wanted to do was freaking orientation. Alois and Gilbert had insisted on it. Ingrid couldn’t figure it out…Alois and Gilbert had given her immense responsibilities: like sky watch…which she didn’t feel at all prepared for. She had only taken her Pegasus on a low-level sky ride three times and she had yet to take it off the cliff. She also couldn’t understand why Catherine put her in charge of the advanced drill year three students. She felt like Sylvain or Ferdinand should have had that task. Sylvain didn’t care. He was smitten with the fact that _his girlfriend_ was in charge of a hell of a lot of important tasks around the monastery. He was content in her shadow. The final responsibility she couldn’t wrap her head around was perimeter duty. That kind of work was reserved for the Knights of Seiros, yet Alois seemed to think she would fit right in. Maybe that was one of his nightly hangover ideas.

She and Sylvain were sitting in a meeting with Alois and Seteth. New rosters were being passed out, schedules assigned, and duties clearly delegated.

“I don’t get it.” Sylvain began, reviewing his packet of papers.

“What?” Ingrid asked, reviewing her sky watch schedule only to realize that she had night duty…which she also hated.

“I’m supposed to give two seminars per week and they are both full. I don’t even know what to talk about!” Sylvain said.

“Your seminars are full of girls. Talk about the things that interest them: Your crest, your cash….your cock.” Ingrid said, not looking up from her stack of papers.

“Goddess! Do you think that’s why they signed up? It’s got nothing to do with the fact that I’ve trained with Dimitri for the past five years?” Sylvain asked, discouraged.

“Unfortunately, it has nothing to do what that and for that I’m truly sorry. Like, seriously, I’m sorry.” Ingrid said. Sylvain shook his head.

“How many seminars do you have?” he asked.

“Two. Mondays and Thursdays. And it looks like I have a first-year general class. Shit! What’s this, advanced drill terminology!? Why wouldn’t that be assigned to Dimitri?” Ingrid mumbled.

“Dimitri has to make his transition to King. He won’t be teaching anything and Dedue will be right there behind him…also not teaching anything.” Ingrid said, half irritated at that level of privilege. Ingrid gasped.

“Look at this! Second year drill!? How the _hell_ am I supposed to run a…I’m saying something... Alois!” Ingrid called. He looked up, red faced and smelling like scotch.

“Seriously? Two seminars? Perimeter duty, sky watch, year three advanced drill? Terminology? First year general!? _Second_ year drill? How am I supposed to fit all this in a week?”

“Year three drill and terminology are one of the same! It’s split into two semesters; you can do it.” He said, dismissively.

“It’s not possible!” Ingrid argued. “You’ve given me _all_ of this and Sylvain has two seminars and one first year class? He’s _much_ more talented than that!”

“Sylvain, do you have a problem with your schedule?” Alois asked.

“It’s not that I…” Ingrid stopped him.

“Why does he have two bullshit seminar classes full of eager first year girls when you could give that to Ashe and use Sylvain for the Calvary drill!? He knows the Calvary well!” Sylvain hadn’t thought of it the way Ingrid was presenting her argument. She had been dumped on with some major responsibilities while Sylvain had menial tasks. It was true that his talents were far greater than what his schedule reflected. He hadn’t thought about actually being _underutilized_.

“Sylvain, your attendance was awful last year. That fact goes into our delegation of duties.” Alois explained.

“That, I can’t completely argue. My attendance was not good…at least until Ingrid lit a fire under me. I had perfect attendance from March to May.” He explained.

“Three months doesn’t cut it, boy. You’re frustrating to me. Your end of the year average last year fell in the basic range. You were capable of the accelerated range. Your work ethic is far too poor to give you any added duties. You’re going to become a Lord, Sylvain and frankly, you aren’t ready for that kind of responsibility” Alois reminded him. Sylvain stared at his shitty schedule and nodded. Ingrid sat there, mouth agape and boiling. Alois was too much of a fucking drunk to know how much time Sylvain had spent reading feudal law, taking notes on trade, commerce and delegation. He had no idea how many black magic tomes he had burned through mastering the dark arts so that he could finally pass that knowledge onto House Gautier. What made her even more furious is how Alois hadn’t a clue that Sylvain had been meeting with the Clergy counselors for the past year to learn all he could about helping the children of Gautier territory overcome the one thing his family never once even acknowledged that he himself had suffered from: Trauma. Sylvain didn’t care about attendance records, final exam scores, or schedules. He _would_ lead Gautier territory and that was what mattered most to him. Sylvain pushed his chair back and tucked his schedule away.

“Thanks, Alois. Can I at least use the second-floor cardinal room for seminar?” he asked defeatedly.

“I’ll reserve it under your name for the semester.” Alois promised. Ingrid watched Sylvain leave the room. She glanced to Alois and then proceeded to gather her things and follow him out.

“Ingrid! Perimeter duty starts Wednesday!” he bellowed.

“I’ll be there…” she said, absently. She flung the door open, knowing Sylvain hadn’t gotten far. He leaned up against the wall of the archway, looking completely belittled. He certainly hadn’t been that way when he walked in.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve never said anything.” Ingrid said.

“It’s not your fault.” Sylvain promised her. They stood there in silence for a moment. Ingrid wasn’t sure what to say next. He looked at her, hurt in his eyes.

“I’m a dipshit, aren’t I? Everyone is right about me.”

“Sylvain…” Ingrid began.

“Don’t…pacify me…you know it’s true. You’ve known me long enough to _know_ it’s true.”

“I wouldn’t be with a dipshit, Sylvain. I wouldn’t…” Ingrid lowered her voice, “...have _amazing sex_ with a dipshit. You know what, Fuck Alois. We are going back in there and…” Ingrid grabbed Sylvain’s arm in a death grip and drug him back into the room they had just left. Ingrid flung the door open.

“Hey! Hey! Alois! I won’t have it!! This is absolute bullshit. Give Sylvain the kind of schedule he deserves!” Ingrid said, helping herself to Sylvain’s schedule that he had tucked away. She flipped it at Alois, not really caring where it landed.

“Well, Ingrid, that’s not really your…”

“No! Do you….do you have _any_ idea what an asset he is to this monastery!? Obviously not!” Ingrid picked up the schedule from the floor where it landed and slammed it on the desk before Alois, catching him off guard.

“Ingrid!” he remarked.

“Fix. The. Schedule. Give the stupid seminars to Ashe. Put Calvary, the second-year riding, black magic basics, and third year endurance drill into it.” She demanded.

“What…what about the javelin drill?” Alois questioned.

“No!” Ingrid slammed her fists onto the table. “His timing with the javelin _sucks_! Change the schedule. Just like I said. C’mon, Sylvain.” She said, grabbing his arm again and dragging him away before he could even react to what had just happened. For the first time, Seteth looked up from what he was doing, giving Alois a mischievous smile. Alois let out his over-zealous chuckle, examining the schedule before wadding it up and pulling out a new one from a folder.

“It worked, Seteth. You were right.”

“You’ll learn to trust my judgement.” Seteth promised. Alois examined the schedule in his hands. For whatever reason, Alois had faked Sylvain out, his actual schedule more similar to what Ingrid demanded instead.

* * *

“Hey.” Dorothea knocked on the doorframe of Ferdinand’s open room interrupting whatever he was doing at his desk.

“Dorothea! Hi! Look at this! I’m teaching first year choir!” he said, proudly holding up his schedule. Dorothea smiled, genuinely happy for him.

“Aww! Look at you! That’s wonderful. Those sopranos will fall madly in love with you I’m sure.” Ferdinand’s face was suddenly serious at Dorothea’s comment.

“You…you don’t think so…do you? Because that just isn’t Noble, Dorothea! _I_ am a committed man and I can’t have…” Dorothea cut him off.

“Relax! Breathe, Ferdinand! You know how it is being a first-year student. There’s always an instructor you wanna’ fuck…you’re going to be that instructor.” Dorothea said pulling up a chair.

“What!? I never…” Dorothea stopped him again.

“Of course, _you_ never wanted to fuck any of your professors your first year.” She sighed. “I deeply regret not flirting more with Seteth.” She shook her head. “Can you imagine if I would have lost my virginity to him instead of Felix?” Dorothea loved making Ferdinand squirm.

“Dorothea! That’s…he’s…an esteemed member of the Church! He’s…” she interjected once again.

“ _YOU_ fucked your girlfriend in the stables don’t you talk judge me about esteemed anything!” she argued.

“How do you know about that!?” he half-shrieked.

“Word of advice, Ferdie…you fuck in the stables don’t leave your jacket and Mercedes’ panties around for Sylvain to find them, okay? When Sylvain is involved, word will eventually make its way...to me.”

“Oh Goddesss, help me…” he mumbled slamming his head into his folded arms. 

“Yeah, go pray about _that_ for a week straight!” Ferdinand groaned into his arm, mumbling something at Dorothea. “Okay, okay…I’m here because…I really need to discuss something with you.” He lifted his head and faced Dorothea.

“Okay, but I just want to say, Dorothea….for the record…” Ferdinand paused. “…that… _incident_ …was _incredible_. That’s all I’ll say.”

“You don’t have to tell me. I get it, Ferdinand. I’m no longer completely weirded out by the fact that you are fucking the shit out of Mercedes.” Dorothea nodded.

“ _Don’t say it like that!!! You make it sound so...."_ He demanded in a half whisper half hiss.

“Hot? Yeah, I know. Did you exploit her weak spot?” She asked as dead-pan as she possibly could.

“ _Dorothea!!!”_

“So, you did.” Dorothea nodded once again. “Good to know. I'll keep that in mind.

"Why would you...ooooh never mind. What did you need?"

"Okay. Listen, I’m here to talk to you about something…kind of…important.”

“Oh, thank Goddess you’re here for something other than prying into what I do with Mercedes.” Ferdinand said, relieved.

“We’re going to come back to that…I um…I need to ask…I guess it’s a favor.” Dorothea became suddenly fidgety as she shifted her gaze to the floor. “A date has been set…for my wedding. There’s a date now. Engagement party too.” She exhaled heavily. “July 7th…this next summer. The wedding is going to be July 7th…the engagement party has been set for October 29th.” She paused and locked eyes with Ferdinand. He was one of the people in her life who could always tell when she was about to say something _very_ serious. “I um…I have no one…to give me away and…I was wondering if you’d do it. NOT, not, _not_ because I think of you as a father but because you are my closest guy friend and I trust you understand how important this is to me. My father-in-law-to-be has already offered to do it so if you don’t…..OH!” Dorothea’s speech was cut sort because Ferdinand had hurled himself forward and thrown his arms around her.

“I WOULD BE HONORED TO DO IT!” he exclaimed; swollen with pride that she would ask _him...HIM_ before anyone else! “Oh my! Dorothea! _Me!?_ You want me…to give _you_ away! This will be FANTASTIC!"

"You...are....squeezing...my ribs...and you...smell incredible. What the hell is that!?"

"Sorry! Sorry!I I got a little excited." He said releasing her. "I will wear something exquisite; I promise!” He gasped. “Black. How about my best black waistcoat? You will gaze on this finery!” Ferdinand was so excited.

“Okay, okay, it’s…its fine, Ferdinand. I...don't need to gaze on anything. Just…you might have to come to Faerghus a few times when the plans are more firmly made.” She explained.

“I can’t wait to go to Faerghus! Will the wedding be in Fhirdiad!? Will I arrive for the rehearsal? Are you inviting Mercedes? Wait...who's going to marry you? Mercedes is ordained in the Church! Wouldn't that just be..." Dorothea cut him off

“Stoooop! I know Mercedes is ordained but a woman can't perform the rights. It has to be a clergy _man._ That's a pretty strict rule in Fhirdiad."

"This is...I'm so excited! You're going to make a good Duchess and mother, you know that? Oh! What will your official title become? How will others address you?" Ah, the noblest of questions. Dorothea's face became suddenly nervous.

"Her Grace, Duchess Dorothea Fraldarius. I've never said it out loud, I've just seen it in print. Ferdinand was suddenly quiet.

“What?” she asked. He shook his head.

“It’s nothing…I just…what if…what I don’t ever see you after your wedding?”

“What!? Of course, you’ll see me.”

“How can you be so sure of that?” he asked, seriously?”

“Well, who’s to say one day the Duchess Fraldarius just…invites Prime Minister von Aegir for tea and…a few songs? And speaking of which, I’d also really like it if you sang at the wedding.” Ferdinand was touched, so touched that it brought tears to his eyes. However, that wasn’t saying much because he teared up when the Aegir hound puppies were born, he teared up at particularly impactful church sermons, he teared up at dramatic sunsets, hell, he practically bawled the first time he slept with Mercedes so it’s a wonder he could hold it together this much. He nodded, wiping his eyes.

“Alright!” Dorothea clapped her hands. “Pull it together. You have to get your choir roster worked out.” Dorothea said, lightly punching his shoulder. Ferdinand smiled.

“Yes! Yes, the roster! You’re right. Okay…” he rustled the papers on his desk. “I’ll pick out some songs! We’ll choose the right one together.”

“Thank you…for everything.” Dorothea said contentently before leaving him alone.

* * *

Lysithea was beaming. She was _so_ happy with herself. Things were going well with she and Lorenz…so well, that she had come to see Mercedes after a lengthy conversation with Ingrid and Dorothea about alllll the amazing benefits of that radiant, glowing, skin they possessed. Mercedes could make that happen for her too. For a year, Mercedes had monitored Lysithea. Her health wasn’t exactly spectacular. Lysithea had a compromised immune system as a result past crest experimentation. And even worse, her biological makeup had been altered in childhood. Mercedes was able to learn a lot about Lysithea’s unique genes from the vials of blood she took from Lysithea every three months. Today was no different. Well, it was a little different because this appointment was much more than her three-month check-up. Mercedes was in the small room of medicines, empty test tubes, papers and assorted medical supplies while Lysithea gave her quite the earful of information.

“And can you believe it!? I mean, it’s not like Claude would really care or anything. He’s not here that much. He knows I won’t do anything stupid. I just never thought I would be next in command of the House after Hilda! She’s leaving the monastery early this year, did you know that? Her last month here as a student is January. She's been in the Alliance territory doing Goddess knows what. I just hope it's not really her bother, you know? The rumor in the House is that she is engaged to a man from the Alliance. No one knows if it's true but I bet Claude does. Hilda’s father would never have Hilda marrying into some lame ass family, you know? Like, me? I know that I’ll marry Lorenz. I will, you just watch. He’s not nearly the total dumbass I used to think he was. He’s actually really caring and we just have to make some plans that all. Lorenz really thinks ahead, way more so than me and…” Lysithea finally stopped talking because she could feel Mercedes’ heavy eyes on her. “What?” She asked.

Mercedes didn’t immediately answer. She stood there, Lysithea on the exam table and Mercedes before her, papers in hand. This moment? This right here was the worst part of Mercedes’ job. She dreaded moments like this one. She had been in difficult situations with patients and delivered some news to people as a medic…but this? There was never a right time for _this._

“I…I can’t give you the shot…” she said, doing her best to maintain her stoic composure. Lysithea scowled. “Huh? What do you mean?” Mercedes swallowed heavily and closed her eyes, focusing her attention to the paper in her hands. “Your…your body chemistry has significantly changed. Your bodily chemistry won’t tolerate the shot and…” Mercedes stopped because was she was dancing around the real issue.

“Is this about my vitamin levels? Are they low again? I could always increase my supplements. I know I’m supposed to take them every day and some days I don’t and it’s my fault.” Lysithea laughed. “I’m going to be taking those crazy things for at least ten more years! It’s alright though. They help my brittle hair and…” Mercedes had to stop her again.

“You…you don’t have…ten years.” The room went silent. Lysithea came here for a _shot_ not… _this_.

“What?” She questioned.

Mercedes pulled up a chair beside Lysithea and took her hand. “Your blood…is changing…rapidly. Your immune system is changing. _You_ are changing. Your body…your body could start attacking itself in as little as…five years. The shot would only speed that process up because of the hormones it changes.” Mercedes said, holding herself proper to the best of her ability. Lysithea’s hand laid limp in Mercedes’ hand as she stared at the floor. The two sat in heavy silence as Lysithea digested the information. She would be 22 in February and Mercedes was telling her that she _might_ have eight years left.

“I…I was supposed to leave this academy and…go home and…” Lysithea stopped. “Really? Are you sure? I…knew I wasn’t well but…” she shook her head. “What about all the things I haven’t done? I wanted to be married. I…I wanted to have a baby.” Mercedes squeezed her hand.

“You _can_ still do those things if that’s what you want!” Mercedes promised her. Lysithea shook her head.

“No. I can’t. It’s too selfish. I can’t…have a husband only to leave him a widower or a child, motherless.” Lysithea wished she didn’t know but Mercedes _had_ to tell her. It was against a medic’s code of conduct to keep any health information from a patient. On the other hand, Lysithea would have rather found out this way as opposed to having already planned her life only to have it all pulled out from under her. This changed…. _everything_. She needed to think about all this...but not too much. She wanted to have a talk with Lorenz, she wanted to be alone, she wanted more than her mind could handle in the moment. Silent tears formed in Lysithea's eyes. Mercedes put the papers down and reached into her pocket, pulling out her beads. She took Lysithea in her arms. 

"Let's pray together." Mercedes whispered. Before Lysithea could answer, Mercedes could hear the soft wimpier against her shoulder. Medics were supposed to remain compassionate but not overly involved. Mercedes didn't care. She put her arms around Lysithea, leaning her head over Lysithea's. 

* * *

Felix and Dedue were on a mission. They were Deer hunting. They weren’t sure what they were looking for or why they felt compelled to do it. Dimitri hadn’t ordered it, in fact, Dedue made it a point _not_ to tell Dimitri the he and Felix were snooping around in places they probably had no business in. Not only because they were technically trespassing, but also because they may find more than they bargained for. As Dedue opened the door, he looked around only to realize it was obvious that Claude hadn’t stayed in his dorm room for a _long_ time. It appeared that it was being used exclusively for storage. Felix sniffed the air of the room, obviously stale and lifeless from its lack of occupation.

Felix made it a habit to stay as far away from Claude as possible. He liked _nothing_ about “von Riegan”. In his words, Claude was a ‘poor excuse for a House leader’, he ‘lacked pure noble blood lineage’ and ‘smelled like a rat….an _Almyran_ rat.’ Felix couldn’t _really_ back up any of his pre-conceived ideas about Claude. He didn’t consider his prejudices to be racially motivated. After all, he didn’t have any problem with Cyril. But then again, Cyril chose not to identify with Almyran norms and customs. Whatever the case, Felix had nothing positive to say about von Riegan.

Claude’s bed lacked sheets and it was strewn with books, each of them dotted with tabs and bookmarks in various places. There were boxes sitting around the room, more books stacked in the corners and his roll-top desk was closed. “Alright…let’s see what we can find.” Dedue said. Felix was more careful than Dedue not to touch anything. He didn’t want it to be blatantly obvious that the two had been here. Dedue tried the door on the chifforobe only to find it locked. “Hmm…this is locked. I bet there’s a key somewhere. Check the drawers.” He said. Felix nodded and opened the drawer on the roll top desk. It was empty aside from some dried-up ink wells and stray envelopes.

“Nothing here.” He said, moving next to the dresser drawers. Felix opened the top drawer only to find some winter scarves, and several elaborately embroidered headwraps. Felix closed it and went on to the next drawer. It was empty, as was the next one. He checked the bottom drawer which only contained sheets, pillowcases and a box of votive candles. “Nope. Nothing of interest.”

“Check the nightstand.” Dedue instructed, flipping through books to see if anything fell from the pages, disregarding the bookmarks. Felix reluctantly pulled the drawer open. He found a small, empty dish, a book of sunrise/sunset times for the past seven calendar years, a gold chain, and a key.

“There’s a key in here. Let’s give it a try.” Felix said, taking it from the drawer and attempting to fit it into the lock on the chifforobe. His hand trembled, dropping the key in amuted clink to the floor.

“What’s wrong?” Dedue asked, almost irritated. Felix shook his head in disgust.

“I’m sorry, I just…I’m paranoid that’s all.” He admitted, scooping the key up once again.

“It’s okay. No one knows we’re here. Try it. Let’s see what this bsatard had in here.” Dedue said menacingly. Felix swallowed heavily and tried the key. It was a fit. He and Dedue jumped because Felix had barely gotten the door open only to have stacks of rolled paper, each tied in the center come falling out in a pile to the floor. “What the…what is all this?” Felix questioned. There were at least fifty rolled documents, all poster board sized.

“Let’s take a look.” Dedue said, dropping to his knees and untying the rolled paper. He and Felix flattened it to the floor.

“It’s…a blueprint. An architectural blueprint. Let’s look at another.” Dedue said, releasing his side of the paper and causing it to curl in on itself. He opened another document…it too…was a blueprint.

“What the hell is this? Do you think _all_ of these rolled documents are blueprints?” Felix asked. “Look, it looks like a…building or…a part of a…road…a roof line? I don’t know…”

“They aren’t labeled but there are precise measurements and this one contains different designs.” Dedue observed. “Goddess…these are….detailed. I don’t know what any of this means.”

“Huh…look, it says possible materials - brick? Stone? Marble? And look here, steel spun cable, retaining wall, access point…what the _fuck_ Dedue?” Felix said observing the detailed notes. Dedue shook his head.

“I don’t know. It appears that they are numbered. See? This is numbered…five and that one there, seven.

“Well, these will rip up easy enough.” Felix said preparing to tear the blueprint apart.

“No! No, no. These…look very important. They could be Seteth’s or…maybe they’re on loan from the library. These could be blueprints from the Empire or…places in Faerghus…anything, really.” Dedue cautioned Felix before he could destroy the document.

“Oh yeah. That’s a good point. The library has several documents like this.” Felix said, rolling the paper in on itself once again. Dedue sighed.

“Well, we tried. Let’s roll these up and...” Dedue paused. “…thank you for…doing this with me. Felix looked nervously at Dedue, shaking his head.

“Yeah…it’s no trouble. Dedue paused.

“Should um…should we go through what’s left of the Byleth’s things? I’ve heard that she’s left quite a bit in her room.” Felix shot serious eyes at Dedue.

“I…I don’t know if…if I can do that.” Felix confessed. “I mean…looking around in here is one thing but… _her_ things.” Dedue agreed.

“Yeah, you’re right. That’s…that’s going too far isn’t it? Just…will you do something for me?” Dedue asked.

“Sure.” Felix awaited Dedue’s request.

“Any time that Claude is on Monastery property…keep your eyes on him. Just…just watch him…that’s all I ask. I’ll have a scout inform you when he’s here.” Dedue explained.

“Alright. Yeah…yeah I’ll watch him.”

“Thank you.” Dedue said as they finished up their deed. "Felix..." Dedue nodded. "You're alright."

"Yeah? So are you." It was a brief, awkward exchange but it earned Dedue an invite to Felix's wedding. 

* * *

Shamir nearly had a stroke. She wasn’t ready to admit that her nuisance wyvern babies she had grown so attached to were growing up. Once out of the enclosure, Mama wyvern had marched them up the side of the low-lying cliff that dotted the landscape and chucked all three of them right off the ledge. As far as she was concerned, it was time to fly…and they did.

“See!? This is why you don’t have kids! One minute they’re all little and screaming and tearing everything up; the next minute they’re on a hillside jumping off! I should have never agreed to help raise…excuse me…completely raise those wyverns!”

“You didn’t completely raise them! Are you forgetting those are _my_ wyvern’s babies?” Claude reminded her.

“Yes, yes they are. But _me_ and Catherine and Seteth raised them! And now they’re all grown up and flying….and they’ll _never_ remember me!” Shamir said, actually disappointed that the wyverns weren’t little anymore.

“Those babies bonded with you. Once a wyvern bonds, it won’t forget you. You’re stuck with three wyverns now.” Claude said.

“Really? You mean….so, once a wyvern picks it’s person…”

“Yeah, wyverns bond for life with their chosen person. There are tales of Almyran battle wyverns dying of grief when their riders die. Or worse, if a battle wyvern is separated from her handler through war, or displacement or abandonment, the wyvern is said to suffer to the point of altering her personality. It’s very hard to earn a wyvern’s trust after it’s been betrayed. In fact, the bond between a wyvern and it’s handler is so strong that it’s a hate crime to kill a wyvern during peacetime.” He explained.

“I didn’t know that.” Shamir said.

“Yeah, and in Almyra, they are revered as almost godlike creatures and because of that, they are fiercely protected….Musharaf Tanin…that’s old Almyran dialect for Honorable Dragon.” Claude paused because Shamir was staring at him, dreamily.

“What?” he asked with his intoxicating smile.

“No, no…it’s…it’s nothing. I’m just wildly turned on by you right now listening to all this wyvern legend. And…coming from a lesbian woman, that’s a huge compliment.” Claude laughed. “What else? Tell me more about why the wyvern babies won’t forget about me?” Shamir asked.

“Well, they’re loving and have a strong, innate instinct to bond. Take my wyvern for instance. Did you know she was abandoned by her mother? I found her squawking, underweight and scared amongst the rocky Almyran coast. It wa as if she were relieved to be rescued because after a whole lot of hissing and defensive behaviors, she finally let me pick her up. I remember feeling her bones and she shook horribly. So, I sat with her in the coastal wind and held her until she calmed down.” Claude explained.

“How old were you?” Shamir asked.

“Seven. I took her back home and showed her to my father. We got her fed and her training as a battle wyvern started when she was strong enough. She grew _so_ quickly. Needless to say, I’d _never_ let anything happen to her. Those three babies are her first eggs. She’s never laid before.”

“So, your wyvern was trained in Almyra?”

“She was. People in Fódlan don’t know how to train wyverns. Seteth is the rare exception. We Almyrans have mastered the art.” Shamir laughed.

“That’s the first time I’ve _ever_ heard you claim Almyran heritage.” Claude smiled. Shamir was a little concerned because she hadn’t seen Claude so subdued.

“Yeah well, with or without a queen I’m leaving for Almyra at the end of the academy year. I’ve got things to do there.”

“What do you mean…with or _without_ a queen?” Shamir questioned. “What happened to your plan of putting Byleth on the throne with you?” Shamir’s question was met with silence. Claude stared off in the distance, watching the wyvern babies cackle in joy as they took to the sky.

“Claude?” she repeated. Claude’s usual unnerving confidence was officially rattled.

“You were right…” was all he said.

“I was right?”

“That no one gets out of an affair unscathed. Byleth…she…she and I had an _enormous_ fight the night of the academic celebration. Well, not a fight really…it was her completely losing her shit at me. I’ve never been screamed at like that before and you know what? I deserved it. She left…she left me in tears, and I have no clue where she went. I _begged_ her to stay at my place, but she wasn’t having it. She _took off, Shamir_. I don’t know where she is.” Claude reiterated. He took a deep breath and wiped his hand over his face. “I…I told you that my plan was to make Byleth the Queen of Almyra. I told you my plan was to get her pregnant so she wouldn’t leave Dimitri.” Claude’s voice hitched. “I didn’t tell you the whole plan. My plan never was to get her dismissed from the Monastery. My plan never was for Dimitri and the Blue Lions to file a formal complaint against her. There was…another part of my plan I never told you about.” Claude confessed.

“I’m listening.” She said, having not seen Claude crack like this. He wouldn’t make eye contact with Shamir. Her heart broke because she had _never_ seen Claude cry, but the tears silently rolled down his cheek.”

“I…wanted to make her the most powerful woman in a new, united Fódlan. And, I was going to do it by blowing up Fódlan’s Throat.” He said, wiping his eyes.

“Bl…blowing up…Fódlan’s Throat?” Claude shook his head and sniffed.

“Yeah…Fódlan…Fódlan is a man’s world. Do you realize that? Almyra isn’t. It’s matriarchal. Women are the head of the house. Almyra has more women in charge of political offices than in all of Fódlan. Almyra needs a strong queen. Byleth and I have the power to unite the _entire_ nation of Fódlan because she _is_ that strong, unwavering queen . My part is covered. At first, I needed her influence because if the people of Fódlan and the people of Almyra saw each of us…together…building a trade route, through the Throat…I wouldn’t be as heavily persecuted in the Fódlan territories. But…if she were my Queen…we could do amazing things for the nations and those nations would eventually become the United Nation of Fódlan. Dimitri isn’t going to change the world, Shamir. I am. And, I want the woman I love to be the beacon of hope that _all_ people see. _She_ is a symbol of unification.” Shamir was speechless. She had so many questions, but she was too enamored with how selfless and romantic Claude’s vision was for a new world. So, she asked the only question that was in the forefront of her mind:

“Claude…where are you going to get _that_ much dynamite to blow up the Throat?” He laughed. He needed something to break his somber mood.

“No one has really seemed to notice but Hilda’s been gone…for a long time. I ran this all by her first. Many vodka fueled nights thinking this through. Since her family has the land closest to the Throat, she and a colleague of mine have been working to buy mass amounts of explosives from Sreng. She makes the transaction; he sails there and retrieves it. Well, he _was_ sailing there until the shipping routes were shut down. We’re short one ton but…we’ll figure it out.” Shamir shook her head.

“Claude….” She sighed. “I just wish you would have gone about all this a different way.

“I do too.” He admitted.

“You’re exhausting sometimes. I should have told me that from the start.” Shamir smiled.

“I can’t pull all my cards at once.” Claude reminded her.

“I swear, you have more layers than an onion. We’re both outsiders. I too, used to keep a lot of secrets from people.” Shamir sighed. Her sweet wyvern babies were all grown up, Claude was playing with dynamite literally and figuratively…her poor brain.


	18. Just Like A Pill

“Who here knows when Garreg Mach was founded?” Dorothea asked to an eager bunch of little ones. The nuns from the orphanage brought the children in their care for a field day at Garreg Mach so they could learn more about trades and what it was like to go to school.

“I know! I know!” an excited hand shot into the air. Dorothea of course, acknowledged the little boy. She cooed at him over his correct answer.

“Good job that’s right! Okay, now, we’re going to read a book together about monastery life! I’m going to turn the pages and Sylvain is going to read it. Listen closely!” Dorothea sing-songed. The children waited, excited to hear the story. They were all so well-behaved. Sylvain and Dorothea could make those kids do _anything_ and it didn't hurt that the children instantly fell in love with their teachers for the day. 

Meanwhile, at the edge of the courtyard, just out of earshot, two disgruntled faces shared a bag of spicy-roasted cashews. Ingrid sighed, “I know why I’m all…moody. What’s your deal?” she asked Felix, handing over the bag.

“Because!” he answered defensively. “Look at her. She’s _so_ good with kids. Those orphans, you know? That's why she's so good with them. Dee is going to be such a good mother. And me? I’m going to be a hot fucking mess, Ingrid! How do you think that makes me feel? She….she knows _exactly_ what to do with the kids and I’m over here like, ‘just yell’. And they are _paying attention_! There’s not even a need to yell! I’m such a dumbass. I am going to be the worst father ever.” This was the second time in less than a year Felix was stuck on this notion. 

“Felix! We haven’t even gotten drunk at your engagement party and you’re worried about being a shitty father? Newsflash, you’re not going to be shitty! You're going to be great at instilling discipline and creating consistency for your kids. Now, me on the other hand? I’m going to be a failure of a mother. Look at me! I’m over here eating cashews with you when I should be…I don’t know…doing…something…maternal?” Ingrid said, sighing in disgust. “Sylvain has practically adopted that one kid and I don’t even know his name! Look at him, calmly sitting on Sylvain's lap while he reads! the kids just keep getting closer to him and he doesn't even mind!”

“You’re going to make a fine mother. You don’t put up with bullshit, you lay it out how it is. You’ve got it together. I...just don't have a fucking clue how to be a parent and I think You'd be a good role mode. And you know what? I have a _good_ father. I have a good father and I still don't know shit!

“You hate your dad.” Ingrid reminded him.

“Did. I did hate him. Dee has…she’s really helped things between us. But that's not something I can talk to him about! I can't ask him now _not_ to suck as a parent!"

“You don’t even have a child, Felix! You're not even kinda' close! Why do you think you’re going to be such a failure?"

“ _Because!_ Ingrid! You’ve met me! You know I’m…” Ingrid stopped this before it could escalate.

“You _love_ that woman over there doting over those kids! _She_ loves you. Boom. You are going to be loving parents and _you_ are going to love your kids more than you ever loved Dorothea! But shit, Felix can you get married before you start worrying about this?” Ingrid said, reprimanding him.

“Okay….yeah…maybe." he paused for a moment. "Do you want a boy or girl? When you have Sylvain’s baby…do you want a boy or girl?”

“Whooooa, whoa, whoa….okay. First, Sylvain and I have never talked about having any babies. This is precisely why I take the shot...he and I don't need _that_ right now. Secondly, if I _did_ have any of Sylvain’s children…I’d want one of each at least. Maybe two of each."

“What do you mean you’ve never talked to Sylvain about having kids?” Felix asked, handing the cashews back to Ingrid.

“We just…we’ve not talked about that. I’ve never brought it up. He and I haven’t really talked about the future much.” Ingrid explained. It irritated Felix.

“What do you mean you don’t really talk about it?”

“I don’t know! We just…haven’t. We' aren't like you, Felix. We don't have to have the ten year plan laid out. I mean, yeah, it's great to talk about your future and plan responsibly but we don't take it to the level you and Dorothea do. I don't even know for sure if Sylvain and I will actually get married. We faked my father our with it but it was a total joke.” Ingrid said.

“Pfft! Please! You’re going to marry Sylvain. You’re going to marry him and he’s going to be a better father than me just like he has a much better proposal planned than what mine turned into! Felix said. Ingrid stopped chewing the cashews.

“What?” she questioned, completely motionless. Felix’s eyes grew wide.

“Nothing. I…I said you’re going to marry Sylvain and I…I stopped talking.” He said.

“He has _what_ planned?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. He doesn’t have anything planned.”

“He has a better proposal planned…than _yours?”_

“I never said… _that….exact…thing._ ” Felix could not dig himself out of the hole he just created.

“You said _exactly_ that!” Ingrid reminded him. Felix sighed.

“Alright! Yeah...I said that! But, I’m not telling you anything else so _don’t_ ask!” Felix warned her.

“I don’t want to know anything, Felix! I want to..." Felix interrupted.

"What do you mean you don't want to know anything!? Why would you _not_ want to know!? I just revealed accidentally that Sylvain was going to propose so why the hell are you not asking more questions?"

"Because I don't need to know! If you say Sylvain is proposing to me, then he is. Unlike you, I don't need a play-by-play of how he's going to do it because I know him well enough to know that it will be very sincere, he'll be absolutely ready and his when he does it? His timing will be horrible." Ingrid ranted. She was met with silence. "And I won't lie...I did...have a feeling he thinking about it. When he's got something big on his mind, he gets quiet and reserved...a little dodgy. He's been like that lately." Felix was impressed. 

"So, you don't have to know details because you just...you _really_ trust him. You have like, a _lot_ of confidence in him, right?"

"Yeah, I do. I trust Sylvain more than I trust my own family. And I may know him but look! Look at that! Sylvain has that kid on his lap. I’ve _never_ held children, Felix! I mean, what the fuck!? Sylvain is going to propose to me and I’ve never held children! What the hell kind of wife is that!?”

“Relax, Ingrid. If Sylvain knows you the way you know him, he doesn't care that you haven't held any kids. I haven’t held any either. Dee is letting that little girl kiss her cheek! You don’t think that freaks me out!? I would never let some kid do that!” Felix said, throwing the cashews back at her.

“You would if it was yours.” Ingrid promised him.

“I would?” Felix asked, completely unconvinced.

“Think about it. Let’s say you have a daughter… _you_ and your fiancé over there have a… _beautiful_ daughter. You’re telling me you wouldn’t let your daughter kissing you goodnight? Or…kiss you goodbye when you left the house?” Felix narrowed his eyes at Ingrid. He didn’t know whether to admit to the emotion in his throat or bite her head off. Either way, Ingrid thoroughly enjoyed watching Felix squirm. There was no way Felix would ever admit weakness to Ingrid so he instead chose to divert it.

“Yeah, fine…whatever. I might...do that.” He scoffed at her. They were silent for a moment as Sylvain and Dorothea managed to get all ten of those wiggly little ones neatly arranged in a line like it was the easiest thing ever. “You know why you’re going to be a good mother?” Felix finally asked. Ingrid looked at him, awaiting his response. He crumped up the empty cashew bag. “You looked after me for a long time. And you cleaned up after Sylvain’s mistakes for years. You took care of him even though he never asked for it...put him in his place when he needed it…called him out on his bullshit. No wonder you trust him. And Dimitri…you’ve always been firm and fair with all three of us. That’s what kids need…they need a mother who is firm and fair.” Ingrid smiled. She’d never thought of it that way.

“Thanks, Felix.” Ingrid looked up only to see that Dorothea and Sylvain had given the children back to the nuns who had brought them to the monastery for the day trip. “You're going to be a wonderful father because even though you can be a handful, you are so damn loyal to the people you love in your life. You'd cut off your own hand before you _ever_ let something happen to Dorothea. And if you'd do that for her? Just think what you'd do for your kids?" Felix thought about flipping her off but Ingrid was right, so he couldn't. 

* * *

It was almost comical. Edelgard stood at 5’2” and she wielded an axe over half her size. In fact, some of them were bigger than she. “This one right here? This one is for all the bullshit I put up with in my fucking House!” Edelgard declared before launching a tomahawk toward her target. “Uuuaaaagggh!” she yelled as she slung it at full force only for it to lodge itself into the wood across the training yard. Hubert nodded.

“That’s nice, El! Why all the rage today?” he asked.

“Because! Fucking Dimitri! Him and his stupid…” she picked up another tomahawk. “…House!” she yelled before throwing the next tomahawk.

“What did the Blue Lions do to you today?” Hubert asked.

“They _existed_. That’s what! If it were up to me…I’d chop Dimitri’s balls off with this stupid…. _tamahawk!_ AAAGGGGH!” She raged before flinging another.

“You need a better reason than…existence…” Hubert deduced. She turned to face Hubert, her hands on her hips disgustedly.

“Why…are you…mocking me!?’ she demanded.

“I…I’m not. All I’m saying is that your basis for your anger today is…unjustified.” Hubert explained, rationally.

“It’s just…Dimitri’s stupid House _looooves_ him or whatever!” she said, rolling her eyes. Just because he’s all delicate and ooooh! Don’t hurt Dimitri! Watch out for Dimitri!’ she mimicked. “Fucking…walking on eggshells around him!? _My_ House doesn’t walk on eggshells because we break all the fucking eggs anyway!!” she hissed, hurling another tomahawk. “If I were a crisis risk, do you think my House would rush to my rescue!? ‘Ooooh Edelgard! We’ll save you! We’re super eagles! We love you, Edelgard! NO! My House would tell me to get my fucking shit together and STOP BEING SUCH A PUSSY!” Edelgard huffed and scowled at Hubert. “I’m done throwing tomahawks! What can I burn!?!?”

“No, no...El, we aren’t….we aren’t burning anything…right now. Are you…jealous that your House isn’t as close as Dimitri’s House?” Hubert asked calmly.

“NO! I don’t _care_ that his House would carry Dimitri over feathers if he asked them to! I just want a little more respect from _my_ House! Do you know what Caspar did today!? Do you know what he said to me!? I asked him _nicely_ to clean up his sloppy technique...I mentioned that he wasn’t following through to get a clean cut with his blade. He told me to clean up my _sloppy love life!_ That’s bullshit, Hubert! It’s bullshit!” Edelgard frantically looked around her. “DAMN IT! Why…are there never…any matches around when you need them!?” she hissed through gritted teeth. Hubert opened his mouth, but Edelgard continued her rant. “Sloppy. Love. Life!? He wants to talk about sloppy, I’ll show him sloppy!! You know, he doesn’t even have….UUUGGGAAAAAHHHH!” Edelgard didn’t even finish her thought. She sent another tomahawk flying, disregarding its direction. Thank goddess it hit the edge of the target and didn’t ricochet off the walls. “FUCK HIM!” she screeched, her hands in fists.

“Edie…” Hubert started, calmly. He had such a way with Edelgard. Hubert was a master at _not_ getting worked up… _ever_. And he was even more stoic when Edelgard flipped out. This wasn’t the first time he had maintained such composure. He knew the truth: Dimitri was a better House leader than she was. He was a more compassionate House leader than she. What really burned Edelgard’s fuel was that Dimitri still had support and attention from his House even though, as she described, he was a, ‘total impotent fuck up mess of a leader.’

“And Dedue! That stupid Dedue. You know what!? Why doesn’t he just _fuck_ Dimitri! His head is so far shoved up his ass anyway! That’s what I love about you, Hubert! You take me _seriously_! You don’t have to follow me around like I’m some depressed, mopey idiot! You _never_ have to coddle me!” she weirdly complimented him in her half yell/half scream. Edelgard huffed. “What’s going to happen when Dimitri is king!? Is Dedue going to call all the shots while Dimitri sits around feeling sorry for himself!? That’s another thing about you, you’re a man of decision! A man of commitment! You’re a man who can stand on his own feet…DAMN IT HUBERT! I’M SO FUCKING ATTRACTED TO YOU WHEN I’M PISSED OFF!!!” Edelgard yelled before slinging one more tomahawk. She sighd heavily, shaking out her hands and trying to calm her trembling, small frame. She was so worked up, so enraged. What _really_ got her all wound up was the notice she received from The Empire stating a need for her to make a formal announcement regarding her nuptials with Hubert. Frankly, she knew she had to do it but she was going to do it on her terms...not The Empire's terms. Well, fuck The Empire. _She_ was in charge and she would make her announcement when she damn well pleased. “Fuck Caspar! Fuck my _House_! C’mon Hubert! I’m done here.” Edelgard stomped.

“Where…where are you going?” Hubert asked, following her, hastily.

“I’m going to find Petra!” she snapped.

“O…kay?” Hubert said hesitantly. Edelgard spun around.

“Can you not see that I'm _mad_ , Hubert!?

"I clearly see it." he stated.

"And what do I like to do when I'm _mad?_ "

"Throw things, hit things, scream at me, criticize the church, yell at..."

"I LIKE TO FUCK, HUBERT! THAT'S WHAT I WANT WHEN I'M MAD!"

"El, those first year students across the courtyard just heard you say..."

"I don't give a shit about first year students! I wanna' fuck Petra and you’re joining us!!!” she shouted. Hubert, though a little thrown by the sudden change of plans wasn’t going to cross Edelgard. When Edelgard got like this, it was her way, or no way. What was he supposed to say? ‘No, sorry Edie, I can’t fit an angry threesome into my schedule right now.’ Hell no. Hubert wasn’t that stupid. Edelgard stopped in her path, Hubert nearly stumbling over her. Rage practically rose from the top of her head. “Are you… _listening?”_ She asked almost menacingly.

“Yes, of course.”

“I talked Petra into going down on you…”

“Okay, that’s…” Edelgard stopped him.

“With me…and that’s what’s going to happen… _after_ you go down on her…and only _after_ you _both_ fuck _me!_ NOW WALK…FASTER!” she demanded. This whole ordeal was either Caspar’s fault…or Dimitri’s…or both? Whatever the case, Hubert was getting laid…and Petra…and Edelgard...aggressively.

* * *

Dimitri had been seeing a church counselor since June. It was exactly what he needed…counseling and a strictly regimented medication routine that Mercedes had to force-feed Dimitri when he first began the dosing schedule. The counselor smiled and looked to Dimitri. “So, what would you like to talk about today?” he asked. Dimitri smiled at him, shrugging his shoulders.

“I…I don’t have much on my mind today. It’s been a good week.” The counselor nodded.

“The semester is almost three weeks in. You’ll be making your transition to King this year. Are you prepared?” The counselor’s comments were met with silence. Dimitri shifted his focus to the floor, crossing his arms. He shook his head slightly.

“No. No, I’m not. I’m to go to Faerghus at the end of the month…to the Blaiddyd controlled territory. The grand palace and grounds are being completely gutted and reworked. I’m to oversee that project for a few days. It needs to be immaculate for Coronation Day.” Dimitri explained.

“You don’t seem overly thrilled by this.” The counselor observed. Dimitri shook his head once again.

“Do you…you think the people of Faerghus will learn of my condition?” he asked. The counselor frowned in curiosity. “What if they discover they have a King…who…has to take medication to feel normal?”

“Your meds don’t define you, Dimitri. The people don’t define you.”

“Yes, they do. If I…if I miss a dose…I…feel different. The people…what if my legacy to them becomes that of a…a…Mad King?” Dimitri questioned, legitimately worried. Perhaps he had something on his mind after all.

“Do you think yourself a Mad King?”

“No…maybe…yes. I don’t even know who I am. The medication keeps me in check but….is that who I am? Is that what it takes to feel normal? Sometimes I feel like I’m just going through the motions…not really living life but…just…existing in it. Yet, I don’t want to spiral. I don’t want to live in darkness. I know how destructive I can really be. So, yes…yes I think myself a Mad King.”

“You keep using the word normal. Define it for me.” Dimitri thought for a moment.

“A man who doesn’t require a pill to keep from de-railing…that’s what normal is.”

“Your pills only help you. They are not meant to _be_ _you_ ”

“Then, why can’t I do it without it?” He begged.

“You have a chemical imbalance and it’s not your fault. It's manageable.”

“What if I’m dependent on pills for the rest of my life?”

“What if you are?”

“I…I _can’t_ be. I’d rather die in battle!”

“That’s a dramatic statement.”

“Yeah, well it’s true…I…I fear I’m too easily influenced with these pills! They _change_ me! It wasn’t my idea!”

“What wasn’t your idea?” the counselor asked. Dimitri ran his hands through his hair and put his elbows to his knees, leaning his forehead on his hands.

“I didn’t want Byleth to be removed from monastery grounds. It was Dedue’s idea…to file the grievance. And I went along with it! I went along with it because the pills made me go along with it! I…thought it was a step too far. But Dedue…and the rest of the House. They were adamant that it was the right thing to do….and _I_ signed it! I signed the grievance!” Dimitri’s words were met with silence as the counselor watched him fidget. Dimitri sighed heavily and looked to the high ceiling above as he threw himself back in his chair.

“I’m hearing you think you made the wrong decision…about your former professor?”

“Yes…I made the wrong decision.” There was silence between the two again. “ _I_ am the reason she won’t be on monastery grounds. _I_ am the reason I won't see her again. And it isn’t fair because…because….” Dimitri looked to the counselor nervously. He leaned in closer. “…Byleth Eisner and I have a history. I _banished_ the same woman same woman I’ve slept with.” Dimitri’s breath shuddered. “I…can’t believe I…made that choice.”

“I thought you said the pills made that choice?" Dimitri looked to the counselor.

"I must admit...the pills help me think clearly. Without them...my mind...it's too consumed...to think rationally."

"So, the pills didn't file the grievance." Dimitri shook his head.

"No. They didn't. But my friends influenced me to do it." there was silence between the two. "They were...they were protecting me. You never realize how much your friends care for you until...until they see you _really_ hurting."

"If you could have a re-do...what would you change?” The counselor asked. 

"I would have taken the pills the first time...the way Byleth tearfully begged me. If I had only done that when I had the chance..." Dimitri's voice trailed. The counselor looked to him, hoping Dimitri would finish his thought. 

"Maybe...maybe things would be different now."

"What would be different?" Dimitri thought for a moment. 

"Taking the pills the way I was supposed to...may have prevented my now, ex-girlfriend from sleeping with another man."

"Your health and _her_ choices are two separate issues, Dimitri." the counselor reminded him. Dimitri sighed and nodded.

"I only wish I wouldn’t have filed the grievance for her to leave monastery property…rather, only to relinquish her role as House Leader.”

“What would be different if your former professor were still on the property?” the counselor asked.

“I could…I could tell her that I cherish the care she gave me and that I forgive the decisions she made.” He said candidly.

“What would happenif you told her those things?”

“Closure. It would give me closure. I need her to know it….us…. we weren’t in vain.”

“I strongly doubt she believes your relationship was in vain.” Dimitri nodded in agreement.

“I hope so.” The counselor looked at Dimitri with thoughtful eyes.

“We’re almost out of time together. Anything else you’d like to talk about?” Dimitri was silent as he slumped back in his chair. He shook his head. 

“I don’t think so. But, as always, thank you for listening.” Dimitri said.

“It’s my pleasure always, Dimitri.” It had been a therapeutic session for a man who had nothing to talk about.

* * *

Leicester Cortania tasted different than Almyran pine needle tea. Leicester Cortania was deep, well rounded, and got it's rich flavor from the black tea leaves it contained. Almyran pine needle was earthy, with cardamom and clove undertones. Either way, both of them could be easily drunk at breakfast. Shamir was charmed and also intrigued. She had never seen Claude eat the kind of breakfast cuisine that was currently spread before him. She had so many questions. Claude was becoming a _lot_ less Fódlani and a _lot_ more Almyran seemingly day by day. “What the hell are you eating?” she asked. He laughed at her.

“Well, this is hummus. That’s pita…it’s a kind of bread. And this…Nabulsi cheese. Lastly, this is a bowl of fruit.” He explained. Shamir rolled her eyes. 

“Oh, you’re soooo hilarious. You just…magically like this? I won’t lie, that stuff looks like wet sand” she stated, observing the hummus.

“No. It’s not my favorite but…it’s an Almyran staple so I have to re-accustom myself.” Shamir shook her head.

“You’re serious. You’re going back to Almyra this year?”

“I am. I’ve lots to do there. Here, join me.” He said offering up a chunk of pita covered in hummus. She grimaced but took it because...it was in her face. She tasted it, less than thrilled, showing her obvious displeasure.

“ ’is….’astes ‘ike ‘and…” she said, with her mouth full. She forcefully swallowed it. “Holy…shit. It tastes exactly like sand. Why do you hate me?” she asked reaching for her tea. Claude laughed at her.

“It’s not _that_ bad.” He defended the smooth, bland, spread.

“It’s…different.” Shamir said, favoring her biscuit with jam. “So, What I wanted to talk to you about is…” she hesitated. “Um…me and Catherine…Seteth…offered to marry us…like…a legally bonded marriage.” Her comment stopped Claude mid-hummus.

“Are you…serious? Seteth offered to do that?” Claude shook his head. “Seteth’s come a _long_ way.”

“What do you mean?” Shamir asked.

“A year and a half ago he would have _never_ united two women…or two men legally. He would have burst into flames before that would happen. Then, he _seriously_ changed his view of things.”

“How do you know that?” Shamir questioned.

Claude pulled the bowl of fruit toward him. “When Seteth and I first started spending time together at the wyvern enclosure, he flat out asked me if I was gay because earlier that week, he got word that I had been in the Alliance capital…doing a job…if you know what I mean. I told him no, I wasn’t gay. I explained that just because I blew a _really_ attractive guy, it didn’t mean I was gay. He was…totally confused.”

“As most men are when they meet you…” Shamir added quickly. Claude laughed.

“Right? Anyway, he wanted me to explain so I told him there was no reason attraction had to be limited to _just_ women or _just_ men. He hadn’t thought of it that way because he had always been conditioned that it was one way or the other. ”

“As so many people are.” Shamir said.

“Yes. So, Seteth went around with that in his mind for a while and then he had more questions…like… _how_ I could be physically attracted to both men and women…. If I had a preference…how many guys I’d been with…how many girls I’d been with. How is it different? How is it the same? He could _not_ process all of it, but I appreciated how curious he was. It showed that he was willing to open up his mind. He and I got pretty close over it..” Claude laughed. “You know, one day he went into the market and he tried. He _legit_ tried to find another man sexually attractive. I thought it was a grand gesture. It was a social experiment for him, and he put forth all effort he had.” He paused and noticed Shamir had stopped eating. She was just sitting there listening, having forgotten she had a very important question for Claude. “I’m sorry, I _really_ digressed.”

“No, no! It’s fine. I didn’t know that about Seteth and I feel like I’m at a point where I know a lot more about him than I ever did. All because of you and your…life choices…we’ll call it. Catherine and I…we’ve decided to do it…get married…but…we need a witness and…Seteth suggested you because…” she choked up. “…he suggested you because he said that you knew what it felt like to be targeted. He said you’ve received it from all angles, your birthplace, your dual lineage, your sexuality, your attitude as a House leader…and most recently, your affair. If Catherine and I tried to get married legally under the watchful eye of _any_ other ordained Church minister, _we_ too…would be a target. Seteth thought you an ideal choice. Not that I wouldn’t have asked you anyway. _But,_ Let me tell you something! We are doing this thing in _your_ top-secret penthouse! That’s the deal!” Shamir said, sticking a finger in Claude’s face. He was delighted.

“Okay, okay first, I am…really honored you’d ask me. I am. Second, I’m going to need to get more champagne for this.” He said before pushing his chair back to walk around the table and hug Shamir. Once he sat down again, he let out a long sigh. “I’m happy for you. I’m _really_ happy for you. You and Catherine are going to change things in society. I like that. Now, I _really_ need your help with something.”

“As long as it doesn’t involve the hummus…okay.” She answered.

“No, I’ll never make you eat hummus again, but I need you to help me find Byleth. It’s been three weeks, Shamir. She’s been gone…. without a word for _three_ weeks.” It was troubling because Byleth wasn’t one to ever disappear without telling someone her whereabouts. It was even bothersome to Shamir.

“Three weeks!? That’s how long it’s been? Claude, this is getting serious. Alright, can you recall the fight she had with you? Did she say anything that could be a clue as to where she went?” Claude picked up his tea and leaned back in his chair, recalling that awful night.

“She said…she said I was the reason she had lost everything. She said she had sacrificed everything for that House and for what?” Claude scowled because there was something else, he remembered from that night, something rather important. “Before she stormed off in tears, she said 'if I come back, it means I found out you were fucking worth it.”

“Wow, that’s…that’s cryptic, that’s harsh, that’s…what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Shamir thought for a moment, trying to decode the vagueness in that message. “Is there _any_ chance at all that she is somewhere being pregnant with your child? Is that why she took off?” Claude shook his head.

“I mean, I won’t say it’s _not_ a possibility but it’s unlikely. We were last together on July 24 and she wasn’t pregnant _before_ that. She took off on August 23rd…or…really close to that. At the very earliest, she would be seven weeks along and she probably wouldn’t know yet, but she would be having symptoms.” Shamir nodded in approval.

“Way to count those days.” She wracked her brain thinking about Byleth’s words: If I come back, it means I found out you’re worth it. “Did she say _anything_ else that night you can remember?” Claude poked around the Nabulsi cheese.

“She was _so_ devastated that night. She still has a penthouse key, at least I assume she does. When she came to me that night, she didn’t have anything with her…except her formal dismissal letter.”

“What do you want me to do to help find her?” Shamir asked, at a loss for ideas. Claude stopped moving his fork around. It had hit him.

“Do you…think there is _any_ chance there are unwashed clothes left in Byleth’s dorm room at the monastery!?” he said, his face excited.

“I…have no idea. Literally, no one has been in there for three weeks.”

“The…the wyvern baby. The emerald! Her nose is _exceptional_! If you can help me find something of Byleth’s…anything unwashed…we can have her follow Byleth’s trail. The emerald wyvern’s nose is 400 times more sensitive than an Aegir Hound’s.” Claude said, excitedly. “My wyvern once sniffed me out from Gautier territory when I was stuck in Sreng! It can be done. See what you can find and put it in a paper bag. Make certain you touch it as little as possible.” Claude coached her. Shamir nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah, absolutely…I’ll take care of it. I only hope I can find something you can use. Oh, and Claude?” He looked up from the Nabulsi cheese.

“Is the cheese as bad as the hummus?” She asked curiously. He smiled.

“Here, try it.” He said, stabbing the little ball with his fork and offering it to Shamir. She sniffed it, already regretting her choice to try it.

“Hmm…” she raised her eyebrows. “Not bad. Reminds me of this cheese with herbs that’s served in Brigid.” Claude smiled.

“I’ve never heard you mention Brigidian food…not once.”

“Yeah, well, you inspired me when you told me a little bit about your life in Almyra. I’ve been running from Brigid for as long as I can remember. I think it’s time I stopped. Afterall, that’s…a big part of who I am.” She said, her voice soft with reminiscence.

“Now you get it.” Claude smiled sincerely. “I can’t wait to see you take marriage vows, something I never thought I’d see you do.” Shamir laughed.

“You think that’s wild? Wait until you _hear_ what I do to Catherine in your bed.”

“Listen, It can’t be anything I haven’t already done or thought about doing.” Claude replied, unfazed.


	19. The King of Wishful Thinking

**Stupid lecture**

Ingrid wrote on the paper before her and passed to Sylvain.

**Yes**

He wrote back, handing it to her. They hated hearing Hanneman talk. _Everyone_ hated hearing Hanneman give lectures. It was even worse when Manuela was presenting with him. Hanneman said in an hour and a half, what could be said in twenty minutes. Today’s lecture…benefits of crestology on the battlefield, was as interesting to Sylvain and Ingrid as watching paint dry. Nonetheless, here they were putting the time in because every last year student was required to have four hours of lecture. Both Ingrid and Sylvain were determined to get the hours in before October and be done with lectures. Sylvain reached for the paper once again.

**Those third-year girls keep turning around and rolling their eyes at you**

Sylvain had pretty handwriting for a man. Compared to Ingrid’s, it was impeccably neat and well-spaced. Ingrid recalled Sylvain wrote with both hands up until he was around seven or eight, eventually favoring the right hand.

**That group of girls should be in charm school. They are always stirring up drama around the monastery**

Ingrid passed the paper back. She watched Sylvain write.

**They followed me here and they are jealous of you**

Sylvain passed it to Ingrid as the group turned around to face the front once again.

**Ha! Ha!**

She wrote, underlining it. Sylvain snatched up the paper from her.

**I’m serious! There are so many girls in the under classes who are jealous of you. They only wish they were half as sexy as you**

Sylvain passed the paper back just in time for Hanneman to call on him to give a crest example. He was delighted…not.

**Bullshit. Good example by the way**

Ingrid wrote as Sylvain gave his example.

**I’m serious. I haven’t told you yet but the other day, Gilbert was getting way pervy talking about you**

Ingrid’s eyes grew wide,

**What the fuck**

She hurriedly passed the paper back.

**Yeah, he was in the cardinal room talking to everyone’s favorite drunk, Alois. He said, he had fantasies about you a lot**

Sylvain wrote.

**OH MY GODDESS. That’s creepy. That’s fucked up. But I would be lying if I said I wasn’t sitting here fantasizing about you**

She passed what had turned into a manuscript back to Sylvain.

**What’s on your mind?**

Ingrid flipped the page to the back as one of underclassmen turned around and gave Sylvain a wink.

**You. Especially the image of you burned into my mind when you came back from the showers this morning wrapped in a towel. You know how good you look wearing wet hair and not much else. I swear you do that to me on purpose. That’s what’s on my mind**

Sylvain smiled as he took the paper back from Ingrid.

**Wait, I had no idea you even paid attention to me coming back from the shower. Are you serious? Since when do you do this? Also, did you see that girl turn around and wink? Write her a note**

He shoved the paper at Ingrid.

**I mentally fuck you frequently, but you aren’t aware because you’re…you. I’m sitting here throbbing at the thought of how good your wet, naked body looks. Give this note to that girl**

Ingrid scribbled another note and handed both pages over to Sylvain. He had to cough to disguise the laughter from reading what Ingrid had written. He tapped the girl in front of him on the shoulder and handed over Ingrid’s note.

**Keep going. Tell me more**

The girl turned around and flipped Sylvain off, wading up the note and throwing it back at him. Ingrid had written: You into rough sex? Your dorm or mine? Ingrid couldn’t help but snicker as she wrote.

**Give me your hand**

She didn’t wait for Sylvain to write anything back. She took his fingers and very quickly and discreetly worked them between her legs. She reached for the paper.

**That’s the kind of thing you do to me**

Sylvain had never felt so utterly hot, bothered, or aroused. Did Ingrid _actually_ just shove his fingers into her pants…in the middle of the world’s most boring lecture!? Yes, she did. Thang Goddess for the back table.

**Why don’t we leave, you shove those fingers in deeper and have a taste**

Ingrid passed the paper back to Sylvain but hell, he didn’t need to reply. Ingrid could handle things from here. She folded the paper with her erotic conversation in two and raised her hand to motion Hanneman her way.

“Yes, yes Ingrid?” he asked as she motioned him closer. Her next move, separated the girls from the women at Garreg Mach. She motioned Hanneman even closer, showing her the audacious note crumped up in a ball that had been thrown at Sylvain. 

“Can you believe the nerve of some girls? Just _look_ at what she wrote!” Ingrid whispered nodding her head toward the girl sitting in front of Sylvain. Hanneman was flustered. “Hanneman, Please, please…don’t make a big deal about it. Just sign the certificates for Sylvain and I so we can take off. And…maybe dock lecture hours for her.” Hanneman didn't know what to do! All he knew were crests and things related to crests. He nervously scribbled his signature and tried his best to find his composure.

“Okay, get up, we’re leaving.” Ingrid whispered, gathering her things.

“Oh, believe me, I’m up…” Sylvain assured her just as quietly.

* * *

Mercedes’ sexuality often went completely unacknowledged. She was a dedicated healer and medic and a dutiful servant to the Goddess. She was Holy, not sexual. Of course, Ferdinand squashed all those pre-conceived notions. He ignited a side of Mercedes she didn't even know she had. At first, Mercedes struggled with it because she had been taught her entire life that _anything_ sexual would doom her to the eternal flames. But then, Ferdinand happened, and suddenly she was more interested in the throbbing between her legs than she was the whole, eternal damnation thing. Ferdinand was cut from the same cloth which was probably why their relationship worked so well. They had never missed a church service together. They valued prayer and daily devotion. Granted, it was also difficult to have a relationship with the Goddess as a third wheel. She knew when you were naked and what those naked intentions were.

Just because Ferdinand and Mercedes were red hot for one another, didn’t mean they actually acted on their shared lust. In the four or so months of being a couple, they had slept together three times. It wasn’t because the sex was lackluster. No, no. It was the opposite of that. The climax was fantastic, but the guilt was consuming. They had never spent the entire night together so that had to count for something…right? Surely they earned _some_ points from the Goddess. Mercedes and Ferdinand always had justification. Their constant excuse: 'it could be worse, we could be Felix and Dorothea.' Speaking of which...there was a test fast approaching: an engagement party. 

Currently, Mercedes was in her most favorite place: laying across Ferdinand’s chest, listening to the beat of his heart and getting drunker by the moment off the smell of his bare skin. He pulled his fingers through soft hair, feeling Mercedes’ body relax deeper into him.

“Guess what? I get four days off for us to go to Fhirdiad.” She said softly. She could feel Ferdinand breathe in and push himself up slightly. 

“Really!? That’s wonderful news. You work _so_ much and for such long hours. You're a true, noble, role model, my dearest.” He sighed contentedly and turned Mercedes’ face toward his.

"Mmm. Thank you. But, I'm not sure how noble of a role model I _really_ am. When Manuela told me to take the four days off the first thing I thought was how excited I was to _not_ go to the infirmary. Isn't that horrible of me?" Mercedes asked, mentally scolding herself. 

"No! Not at all! You dedicate everything you have to helping others. You deserve the time off. And, if I'm being totally selfish, I get to have you with me those four days." Ferdinand's words made Mercedes' face glow.

"It's not selfish at all. I've never had four straight days with you...and in Fhirdiad of all places. I can you show you around if you'd like to see some of the places I frequented as a child." Ferdinand was exhilarated.

"I...would love that! I've never been around Fhirdiad that much. I can't wait!“

Mercedes looked Ferdinand nervously. "Um...there's something else." Ferdinand returned her gaze, "I...I wonder if...if you'd...if you'd meet my father. Just to...see him...I guess." she struggled to get the words out. Ferdinand's eyed grew wide.

"Mercedes!" he began. "Of course I'll meet your father. I'll gift him a bottle of fine scotch." she laughed.

"He'd like that very much I'm sure. In fact, he'll probably want to open it with you." Ferdinand looked at Mercedes as if the sun rose and set for only her.

"I'm not going to be able to resist you when we're in Fhirdiad. Dorothea put you and I in the same suite purpose. I know this because I lectured her about the lack of her nobility! Maybe you can tell her to please let you have your own room." Mercedes thought about Ferdinand's plea. He was the very definition of responsibility.

"Well, I could..." Mercedes started, "...or...we could spend the night together...in the same bed." there it was. That was the side of Mercedes that couldn't be tamed. Ferdinand's face turned white. 

“What?" he questioned. "Are you...serious?" Mercedes shook her head. 

"Oh, we wouldn't be having four days worth of wild sex."

"Thank the Goddess...I think." Ferdinand said, relieved.

"Instead, I'm going down on you. I need to practice what Dorothea has taught me. And, I think it's a good idea if you got some practice too." If Dorothea would have said it, it would have been filthy. When Mercedes said it, it practically sounded like scripture. Ferdinand wasn't expecting _that response_. He hadn't blinked in at least four seconds. "I almost forgot! We get to go to church in Fhirdiad as well!" Ferdinand still hadn't responded. His brain was in overdrive. Of all the things they had discussed, he didn't have a clue which one to be most exited about. 

* * *

“Hey, do you have a minute?” Lysithea asked, tentatively, not exactly certain how she would find Edelgard who was sitting behind her desk, pen feverishly scribbling on her papers. Lysithea and Edelgard weren’t known for their frequent interactions. Their paths rarely crossed…ever. For Lysithea to search her out must have been important.

“Um…hi? Yeah, I guess.” She said. Lysithea took a chair and pulled it toward Edelgard’s desk.

“I just…I need to talk to you?” Lysithea asked more than stated. She felt on-edge with Edelgard. El didn’t exude warmth and approachability. She tossed her pen aside and leaned back, crossing her arms. She watched Lysitea, whose eyes jumped nervously between Edelgard and the floor. Lysithea fumbled with her fingers. She didn’t say anything, searching for the words to start this conversation.

“I don’t have all day. I’ve things to do.” Edelgard started things for her.

“Yeah…yeah, well. The reason I’m here…I…I spoke with Mercedes recently and um…you…you may want to do the same. You and I…we…have something in common.” Lysithea looked up to Edelgard who was unphased by Lysithea’s words. She was dancing around the point. Her breath shuddered and she felt a wave of nausea in her stomach. “I don’t have much time left and you better let Mercedes test your blood so that you know how much time you have too. You and I were both experimented on when we were young and I just…I don’t want you to be as blindsided as I was.” Lysithea exhaled heavily and sunk into her chair, putting her hand over her stomach. Edelgard sat there, arms still grossed. 

“Is that it?” she asked, coolly, offering no further elaborations. Lysithea nodded.

“Yeah…I’m…I’m sorry to have bothered you. I’ll be…”

“You don’t think I already know that I’m dying?” Edelgard asked without remorse. Lysithea refrained from standing from her chair. She made eye contact with Edelgard. “Do you honestly think Lindhardt hasn’t already studied me? I don’t need fucking… _Mercedes_ to tell me shit! Lindhadt has already done that! I know I’m dying! I know the experiments damage your cells. I know the experiments _change_ your body biologically. Don’t you come in here and remind me that I was nothing but an experimental tool in someone else’s _project_!” Edelgard snapped.

“Don’t…say it like that…” Lysithea squirmed.

“Why? Does it make you _uncomfortable_ to know that your family wouldn’t have given a shit if you’d died during the experiments!? Because you are...just like me. But don’t you try to think for a minute that you and I are the same because we are _not_! Okay? Don’t think you’re doing me a favor by interrupting me and reminding me of the inevitable!” Lysithea shook her head as she was assaulted by Edelgard’s words. 

“I’m sorry, I’ll…”

“You aren’t _anything_ like me. This spring, you get to leave the academy and live a simple, private life and hopefully regain some of the health you’ve lost. You aren’t under any pressure. You don’t have to marry a man who doesn’t know you’re dying.” Lysithea shot her eyes up.

“You’ve…never told Hubert about the…”

“No!” Edelgard interrupted. “Tell me something, Lysithea…why? Why should I tell him? I’m going to marry him no matter how ready I am to do it. Even if I have… _significant_ doubts…I’m marrying Hubert. I’m marrying him and I will leave him a widower. Do you _really_ think he needs to know that!? ” Edelgard threw her arms out.

“Yes! Yes, I think you should tell him. He needs to know because he cares for you. He loves you, Edelgard and you don’t have the right to keep information like that from him!” Lysithea finally spoke up.

“Yeah? Well, Petra loves me too…and I love her. So, should I just…get both the people I love, stick them in a room and say guess what? Jokes on you, I’m dying! I love Petra _more_ than Hubert. But I _can’t let Hubert go!!_ He is the most comfort I’ve ever had in my life! He's all I've known of stability.” Edelgard sent her fists into the desk as tears appeared in her eyes. Lysithea felt the sickness in her stomach churn. Shedidn’t know what to say. She had come here only for Edelgard’s benefit. Instead she got a glimpse into the _real_ Edelgard…an Edelgard who was broken, conflicted, and cleverly hidden behind the protection of her own self-loathing…and Hubert.

“I’m sorry…” Lysithea mumbled. Edelgard sniffed.

“Why does it have to be wrong or right?” Lysithea looked up. “In order to love _one_ person, you have to hurt another. Why?” Edelgard shook her head. “Why is it…in this world…it’s _never_ okay to love two people…at the same time? Why…does it have to be one way…or the other?” She watched Lysithea with glassy eyes.

“It’s about commitment. It’s about…devotion. It’s…” Edelgard buried her head in her desk again, unsatisfied with Lysithea’s response.

“You’re one of _them._ Just someone else against me and what _I_ want.” Edelgard said, jumping to conclusions. Lysithea pushed her chair back from the desk.

“I…I need to go…” she said, feeling her stomach swirl, becoming sicker. Neither she nor Edelgard said anything else as Lysithea’s footsteps rapped against the stone floor.

“How long do you have left?” Edelgard asked as Lysithea approached the door. She could feel Edelgard’s eyes on her back.

“I won’t see 30.” Lysithea answered, reaching for the door. She could head Edelgard sniff.

“Me neither.” Lysithea hesitated but instead of wearing out her welcome any longer, she opened the door and closed it behind her just as quickly. She couldn’t control what happened next. No sooner than the door clicked shut. She wretched, a horrible surge rushing straight to her throat. Lysithea looked around frantically. There were no trash cans nearby and so…right there in the middle of the freshly cleaned breezeway, her lunch reappeared. Her heaving caught the attention of Linhardt who had recently finished up a class with first year mages. Lysithea dropped to her knees, reaching her palms out flat on the stone floor.

“Lysithea!” he called to her, taking his mage robe off and tossing it aside. He knelt beside her, putting a hand on her back and pulling her hair from her face. “Lysithea!” he repeated, stroking his hands over her hair.

“Ughhh…sorry you had to see that. I couldn’t hold it back.” She said, leaning back on her knees. Linhardt took out his handkerchief and wiped her face. “Thank you.”

“Of course. C’mon. Let me walk you to the infirmary.” He said, helping her up. Linhardt signaled to the nearest person in the breezeway to send for clean-up.

“Have you been sick?” he asked, an arm around Lysithea’s shoulders as they headed to the infirmary.

“Not… _sick,_ sick. I’ve just been nauseous all morning and most of the afternoon. I had to talk to Edelgard and...it just kept getting worse and worse.” Lysithea explained.

“Well, Mercedes will check you out. I’ll stay with you until we get you into the infirmary.” Linhardt promised her.

* * *

Leonie cleared her throat. “Um…there’s a beautiful Almyran man in the courtyard and he’s asking for Claude.” She announced to the dining hall table where Shamir sat. Shamir carried on with her meal, only half-listening. “I…thought you were probably the best person to ask about this?” she continued. Shamir shot her eyes up from her soup, briefly glancing at Leonie only to return to her focus to the sandwich on her plate beside the soup. “He’s out there covered in sweat, okay? He’s wearing a headband…thing…but you wouldn’t notice because he is _glistening wet!”_ Raphael laughed.

“No one glistens more than me when I have the meat sweats. But hey, is this guy glowing like that time Hilda rubbed Claude down in cooking oil?” Leonie’s eyes grew wide.

“It’s _exactly_ like that.” Damn it. Now Shamir was forced to get involved…

“Whoooooa, whoa, whoa… _why_ did Hilda…rub Claude down in cooking oil?” she asked.

“There was this…information…we needed…Claude was willing to….do some stuff.... It wasn’t my idea!” Leonie said defensively.

“You handed Hilda the bottle of cooking oil and told her to be sure to let it trail into Claude’s pants!!” Raphael reminded her. He laughed again. “Remember how we used the rest of the oil to fry potatoes? Those were good times! I miss those days.” Shamir threw her hands up, dropping her spoon in her plate and pushing her chair back. She threw her napkin to the table in frustration.

“That’s it! That’s… Fine! _Fine! I’m going!_ I’ll leave my perfectly peaceful meal with my girlfriend…for whatever the hell is…I’m on it! Okay? I’m on it!” She shook her head as Catherine gave her a pat on the back. “Goddess, I should have never left mercenary work…” she mumbled, leaving the dining hall.

She made her way to the connected courtyard, only to realize Leonie had described the ‘situation’ out here perfectly. “Hey, uh…hi. Hi there. Can I help you? You’re looking for….”

“Amir!” a voice called from behind Shamir.

“Oh, him…apparently.” She said, seeing as Claude had come up behind her.

“Yes, I’ve been waiting for Claude, but thank you for asking.” he said politely. Claude greeted Amir with a half-hug, half-pat.

“I see you’ve met Shamir.” He said, slinging an arm around Shamir’s shoulders. She rolled her eyes.

“Claude, it is too hot for you to be hanging all over me. Since you’re here for him, I’m going back to lunch.” Shamir, still irritated that she had to come outside and deal with this, she left the scene no sooner than she had appeared. Amir crossed his arms before him.

“So, this is it, huh? You know I’ve never seen the inside of a working monastery? I bet they frown on you being here, with your views on the Goddess and all.” Amir deduced. Claude laughed.

“It’s not like that here. I mean, it is but…you know I don’t spend a lot of time around the wrong people.” Amir laughed.

“Translation…the overly religious ones.”

“Hey, I have some _very_ religious friends who would do anything for the Goddess…and me.” He raised his eyebrows at Amir.

“Of course, you do. So, did you…make arrangements?” Amir asked. Claude wiped his hand over his face and looked over both shoulders.

“We uh…we shouldn’t talk about this here.”

“Claude, seriously? My fingers are literally bleeding for this project and you tell me now isn’t a good time?” Amir said, showing him his bandaged fingers.

“I know, I know…I know, Amir. I don’t mean it like that.” Claude leaned in. “I’m being watched right now. I have the explosives…the last ton we need…and they are ready to go but…we need to go elsewhere to talk.”

“What do you mean you’re being watched?” Amir asked, a little too loudly.

“Sssshhh! Keep your voice down! Okay, look over my shoulder. No, my other shoulder.” Claude instructed.

“Okay?” Amir questioned quietly.

“Now, look toward the arched walkway…just inside there’s a door and to the left of that door there’s a figure standing behind a stone flowerpot. Do you see him?” Claude asked.

“Slim guy? Dark hair?” Amir asked.

“Yes.” Claude answered. “He’s been ordered to watch me and in order for us to get to the dynamite, we have to make him leave.”

“Why is he watching you?”

“He’s a close associate of Dimitri Blaiddyd, that I told you about.” Amir nodded.

“Gotcha. So, how do we make him leave?” He hated when Claude smiled…especially this way. Anytime Claude flashed _this_ kind of smile, it meant that he had a plan.

“Kiss me.” He said, confidently.

“Claude…” Amir scolded.

“I’m serious. Kiss me…and I _promise_ you, he’ll be completely flustered and run off to go tell someone.”

“You’ve been trying to kiss me the _entire_ time I’ve been with Shar.” Amir reminded him.

“No! No! That’s not true! I’ve been trying to _make out_ with you…since you and Shar got together. And now…all my hard work will have paid off!” Amir sighed.

“Damn it. You always win, Claude.”

“Now, put your heart into this. Make it believable. Can I feel you up?”

“No.” Amir stated with no room for negotiation.

“It was a good try.” Claude said before reaching a hand around Amir’s bare, sweat-covered back. Claude didn’t have to make his kiss believable, he much preferred using his kiss to convince. He could taste the lingering salt on Amir’s lips.

Felix was…he couldn’t pinpoint what it was going through his mind. He scowled, looked to his left, looked to his right…and panicked. “Did…did anybody…see…that…” he said to no one. He mumbled something else and pointed a finger in Claude’s direction. What the… _what the hell!?_ There was nothing he could do. Felix was asked to watch Claude. He watched alright. “I have to tell someone about…fuck…” Felix didn’t finish his thought, taking off in the opposite direction.

With his arms still around Claude, Amir looked in the direction where Felix stood. “ You’re good. He left. Also, you didn’t have to add any tongue.” He said stepping back from Claude, his hands on his hips.

“I know I didn’t _have_ to. C’mon. I’ll show you the dynamite.” Claude said, motioning Amir to follow him. It cost him, but Claude had managed to buy the remainder of the dynamite from a dark merchant. It was kept in the Garreg Mach basement and Amir was tasked with transporting it to Fódlan’s Throat. The men in Almyra and Sreng were desperate for work and so Amir had used his connections in both countries to secure a team to transport the dynamite. Claude wouldn’t be around for the loading of the dynamite as to not cause any suspicion of his doings among the Blue Lions.

Once to the back loading doors of the monastery basement, which remained open during the day for deliveries and shipments, Claude led him inside the musty walls. “Here is it, 2000 pounds of dynamite. It’s all been grouped into ten portable palettes.” Claude said, slapping the side of one of the dynamite palettes. Amir admired the sight, grateful for the cool stone that surrounded him.

“Claude, how did you get this?” he asked.

“Ten palettes, ten sexual favors. It’s that simple.” Claude said, throwing his hands out. Amir crossed his arms.

“Please tell me you’re lying.”

“I bought it from a merchant in town. Totally legitimate.” Claude assured him. Amir nodded.

“Who’s getting credit for this project when it’s complete?”.

“You are, of course. It wouldn’t be possible without you.”

“No, I mean…Fódlan…or Almyra?” Amir was a proud Almyran. It wasn’t that he disliked Fódlan but any time there was an infrastructure project, the paying nation got the credit…and the taxpayer reimbursement. It was Amir’s mission to bring Almyra to Fódlan’s attention. He wanted to promote its rich architectural designs and deep cultural roots. He believed strongly in accessibility and educational opportunity. The collapse of The Throat was the beginning of those visions. Claude was lucky to have a confidante like Amir. He was smart, hard-working…and a great kisser.

“Almyra. All the gold that paid for all the dynamite, and all future funds we’ll need…it’s all Almyran.” Claude promised. Amir smiled. He was so excited.

“Almyran money…hidden behind the von Riegan name.” He shook his head. “You _are_ slick, Claude. Oh, and the blueprints?”

“That’s our next stop.” Claude answered, leading Amir out of the monastery basement and toward the dorms.

* * *

Dimitri sat on the edge of his bed staring at the pill in his palm. He shifted his focus to his opposite hand, rotating the bottle and listening to the pills faintly hit the glass sides before tipping it sideways only for four more pills to fall into his palm. He examined the five pills before closing his fist around them. He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against his fist. Dimitri took a deep breath, pulled his closed fist away and watched as he put the four pills back into the bottle. He quickly swallowed the one remaining in his hand and focused his gaze to his lap. Sitting the bottle aside, he put his hands on the smooth satin that laid over his thighs.

That night was burned forever into his mind. He could still feel Byleth’s warm hand trace its way down his firm chest. He closed his eyes and brought the soft fabric to his nose. Goddess, it still smelled _just_ like her. That sweet smell of pear and vanilla. It made his mind race. Dimitri was taken back to that night when Byleth sat straddled across his hips as Dimitri lie flat underneath her. He could still feel how soft her shoulder was under his fingertips. The straps fell off so easily, almost as easily as Byleth slid onto _him_ , letting her palms glide against Dimitri’s mattress. He could still feel the pressure of Byleth’s hips against his palms and see the sweat that covered her neck and collarbone. Dimitri was haunted by her pleas, her soft moans, and the way Byleth desperately exhausted his name.

Dimitri remembered how Byleth was never afraid of getting too messy, too hot, or too loud. It was shocking…how very submissive she was to him. Byleth never said no and she’d do anything Dimitri wanted. He inhaled the soft fabric again, recalling the feeling: the feeling of Byleth’s warm, naked body against his. The mornings were always so much easier when he would open his eyes only to be smothered in the scent of her hair. She was always so….

Dimitri was quickly snapped out of his thoughts by a knock at the door. He hurriedly jammed the satin nightgown underneath his pillow and pulled his sheets up around the edge of his pillowcase. He cleared his throat, “c…come in.” The door flung open as Dimitri’s eyes to meet those in his doorway. Dedue nodded.

“Your Highness…are you ready?” Dimitri nodded, unconvincingly. Dedue held out his hand. Dimitri reached for his bottle of pills and handed them over. Mercedes had ordered the pills be counted daily. Byleth did it, only to fight Dimitri when he would take more than prescribed and sleep for days. He felt like an unsupervised child handing the pills over to Dedue every day. Nonetheless, Dedue would empty them all into his palm, count them, and dump them back in, just as he did now.

“So, thirteen miles today? Is that the distance?”

“Yes! I know you’re ready. It will be a fantastic run.” He handed the bottle back and crossed his arms before him. “Before we go, there’s…something I’d like to talk with you about.”

“Very well. Shall we go somewhere?” Dimitri asked, standing up.

“Sure. We’ll walk through the courtyard and take the long way to the perimeter road.” Dedue suggested. It was a fine day for a long run. Dedue was suddenly without words, not that he was a man of many. He never had trouble speaking with Dimitri but he wasn’t sure how to approach what he wanted to say.

“Are you alright, Dedue?” Dimitri questioned, seeing as Dedue had grown silent.

“Yes…yes. I’m…there’s…someone I’d like for you to meet.” Dedue said. _That_ stopped Dimitri in his tracks. Dedue swallowed hard. Dimitri said nothing but his look of bewilderment spoke volumes. Dedue clenched his hands, giving them a single shake before him. “Hear…hear me out. I…know of someone…from The Kingdom. She comes from a very wealthy family. In fact, her father sympathized with Duscar during the conflict. A very well brought up, girl…raised in a moral and strict home. Colletta McCade-Winslow. A true noble woman. I…I think you would like her.” Dedue finished. Dimitri didn’t know what to say. It hadn’t even been two months since…

Dimitri took a deep breath, frowning at Dedue. “I’m. Not. Meeting. _Anyone_.” He insisted. Dimitri had never taken such a serious tone with his dear friend. Dedue could feel a rush of heat to his face. He nodded quickly.

“Sorry. I’m…I’m sorry.” He said, embarrassed. Not another word was spoken between the two for the next thirteen miles.

* * *

“I saw it! I saw it, Dee. It happened!” he exclaimed, flustered and feeling a heat flash overcome him. Felix stripped his shirt off and sent it hurling into the laundry pile before plopping on the edge of the bed in defeat. Dorothea didn’t have time for his personal crisis right now.

“Okay, Felix? Is this something I can solve in an hour because I’m helping Ferdinand with choir practice at four?” Dorothea warned him, fumbling to get her dress zipped.

“Fucking…von Riegan! He…he kissed his guy, Dee! He kissed this guy and…he was all…passionate about it!” Felix said, throwing his hands out.

“So? What are you having a meltdown over this?” she asked, moving to where Felix sat so he could zip her up easier than she could.

“Because!” he said in defense.

“Remember? We talked about this…because isn’t an answer…” she reminded him, feeling her dress come together at her back.

“Von Riegan kissed that guy better than I kiss you and…and that’s not okay! AND I abandoned the assignment! Dedue gave me orders…watch von Riegan…but he kissed that Almyran guy, I lost my shit and ran off…to come tell you.” Dorothea felt a headache coming on.

“Why do you think Claude kisses so much better than you?” she asked.

“Be…because! It…he…okay…okay…” Felix took a deep breath and put a palm in the air before him. “Dorothea…I…am not…gay…but…”

“Oh, dear goddess help us all…” Dorothea mumbled, burying her face in her hands.

“I…I know! I know I sound ridiculous right now! Dorothea! You have no idea how hot this kiss was! This was not your average…you know what I think?” Felix asked, raising a finger to his lips.

“Whaaaaaaaat?” Dorothea moaned into her hands.

“I think…” Felix shook his finger to the air repeatedly. “I think I would have to be completely ass-trashed drunk to kiss another guy and even then, I’m not sure I could do it. And I know I couldn’t do it the way von Riegan did it!!!” Felix half-yelled. “He was just _so_ …” Dorothea had to cut Felix off. There was only one way to deal with this…this…whatever the hell this was. She straddled Felix’s lap and took his face in her palms before pressing her lips into his. Talk about passionate, Dorothea knew what she was doing. She needed no cues, no coaching…she could work Felix over the way a baker could work dough.

She pulled her lips away from his, breathless and covered in a thin gloss of saliva. She still held his face in her hands as she burned her gaze into Felix’s desperate eyes. She shook her head.

“If you kissed another guy like _that_ he would do _anything_ for you. I _have_ to go to choir practice. When I come back, maybe _I’ll_ do anything for you.” Dorothea said softly.

“You don’t need to go.” Felix assured her, working his hands up her dress and over her thighs. His heart nearly stopped at the feeling of lace at the top of her thigh highs.

“I _need_ to go.” She said, unconvincingly, sinking lower into Felix’s lap.

“You _need_ to take your dress off.” Felix said, unzipping her again.

“Mmm…I…” Dorothea didn’t bother. Hell, she wasn’t going to choir practice, who was she even kidding? Felix was _such_ a good kisser. “You’re so much hotter than Claude.” She said pushing her dress from her shoulders.

“Are you being serious? I mean, he’s _always_ tan.”

“Shut up before I change my mind and go to practice.” Dorothea started to reach for the lace at her thighs, but Felix’s hand stopped her.

“No, no…leave those on.” He said before moving his hands up to Dorothea’s ribs and pushing her down beside him.


	20. 'Cause I'm Just Holding on For Tonight

To say that the Fraldarius’ knew how to throw a party was an understatement. They _really_ threw a party. October in Fhirdiad wasn’t known for its warm nights but the roaring fire made the rooftop party so memorable. It was a night that would be talked about for weeks, and months to come. Felix was _not_ the star of his own party, though his supporting role was spectacular. No. The _real_ stars of the night were Sylvain and Ingrid. It wasn’t because they each gave tear jerking speeches about Felix and Dorothea. It wasn’t because they each played a huge role in these upcoming nuptials. It was… _them_. Their chemistry. Their charisma. Sure, they out drank and out partied everyone, but, for the first time in…ever…Sylvain and Ingrid were taken seriously. One of the party guests wet as far as to ask Rodrigue who the ‘beautiful’ woman was with the ‘articulate and handsome redhead’.

Ingrid had never been called beautiful by anyone except Sylvain and furthermore, Sylvain was so used to being called a womanizer and idiot that he honestly thought the guest was referring to Ferdinand. It was simply wasn't the case. Rodrigue received a mountain of compliments about Ingrid and Sylvain’s inescapable charm and good nature. 

The engagement party was an eyeopener in many ways. At the monastery, both Ingrid and Sylvain were completely immune to the fact that they had been treated like punching bags for the majority of their time there. Ingrid, because the underclass girls couldn’t understand why an ‘unpretty’ girl like her even deserved to have a boyfriend in the first place…let alone the heir to House Gautier. They were far too immature to see Ingrid for what she actually was: a fine champagne that not just _any_ taste could afford. And Sylvain…he had more meaningful conversations at the party than he’d _ever_ had in the days at the monastery. Guests could hardly wait to talk to him. They were swept away by his wit, his allure, and his ability to talk about anything to anyone. No one asked him about his crest, no one talked about House Gautier. They talked to _him._ Somehow, amidst all the accolade of the party, they became number one.

Then there was Dedue and Dimitri. The party was…it wasn’t exactly Dimitri’s favorite place to be. However, it provided a temporary distraction from his broken heart syndrome. The weekend brought Dedue to several realizations. Dimitri, though doing _far_ better than anyone ever anticipated, and looking fantastically put together on the surface...he was unwell. Only by spending nearly _every_ minute with Dimitri did Dedue realize how much attention the future King of Faerghus required. Dedue worried that if left to his own devices, Dimitri could slip back into a dark place. He didn’t realize how, frankly, _draining_ Dimitri could be. Dedue loved him like a brother but being away from the monastery forced Dedue to acknowledge Dimitri’s weak spots.He didn’t know or understand that Dimitri’s mind _never_ stopped, that quieting the demons was only part of the battle. Dedue hadn’t planned on the earful Dimitri gave him either. He had _no_ idea about the night terrors Dimitri once experienced very regularly. He didn’t know that Byleth had been there for every one of them. Dedue didn't even know what a night terror was...and _Byleth_ somehow managed to get Dimitri through all of them. He didn’t know that Dimitri had abused his medication to the point sleeping nearly eighteen hours a day. Dedue didn’t know that the pills Dimitri took to keep him afloat came with a price: impotency. Dedue deeply regretted taking the mission during Dimitri’s worst months. If only he had been there for His Highness. He blamed himself for Dimitri's fragility. Byleth knew how to _care_ for Dimitri. She knew _exactly_ what Dimitri needed, what he didn't...Dedue wasn’t sure he was prepared to look after Dimitri properly. He could flex one great talent he possessed: listening. He let Dimitri talk, no matter how much he rambled, no matter how in-cohesive his topics, he listened. It was Dimitri's world...Dedue was trying to figure out how to live in it. As he grew closer and more transparent to Dimitri, he wondered what secrets Byleth possessed about Dimitri that not even Dedue was told?

And of course, there was the reason this party even happened in the first place. Dorothea was completely enamored by her: Giselle Fraldarius. All this time she had thought Felix took after Rodrigue… she couldn’t have been more wrong. Felix possessed his mother's mannerisms, her quick rebuttals, and even her reserved yet insisting body language. Dorothea saw Felix in Giselle's eyes. Most mothers-in-law judged their daughters-in-law, or had rocky relationships with them. Giselle was intrigued and excited by Dorothea. House Fraldarius had a history of aristocratic heritage: none of which Dorothea possessed. Duchess Fraldarius was more impressed by hearing stories of Dorothea's life on th eEnbarr than she was her tales of living the life of an opera diva. Giselle came from nobility so Dorothea's frame of reference for life was captivating to her. Duchess Fraldarius shared with Dorothea that she had hoped for a daughter after Glenn and Felix, but the Goddess had other plans. Over wine, Felix’s mother was candid about the pain of losing a child, about her own struggles as an unprepared Duchess, and the huge adjustment of leaving her home and being immediately thrust into the role of wife and mother. 

She was uncensored in the way she spoke of her relationship with Rodrigue. Dorothea was practically aroused at the way Giselle referred to her husband. Not _once_ in conversation did, she call him Rodrigue. “I’ll run that by Rod.” She would say. “It’s fine, Rod will take care of it.” Or her favorite, “Don’t worry, Rod’s got it.” It was a clear testament that Rodrigue wasn’t just Giselle’s husband…he was her companion and best friend. Dorothea found it sad that Felix _never_ talked about his parents because they were truly lovely people. Unlike Dorothea, Felix didn’t come from dysfunction. His parents were perfectly happy and as far as Dorothea was concerned, Felix was throwing that relationship away.

Giselle knew her way around a wine cellar…and the bottle…and she wasn’t the least bit afraid to ask Dorothea questions no other mother-in-law to be would ask. And then, there was the case of the engagement portrait. The picture that would hang in the Fraldarius estate, the picture that _all_ other nobles and diplomats across Fódlan would see. Giselle thought Dorothea’s blue velvet dress was beautiful and she loved the feathered headpiece but what bothered her were Dorothea’s breasts. And so, Duchess Fraldarius took it upon herself to unbutton Dorothea and tighten the _fuck_ out of that corset until the wire lining was digging trenches into Dorothea’s skin. And then came Giselle’s words of wisdom: “The Goddess didn’t give you a set of double D’s only for them to go to waste stuffed inside this dress. Those will negotiate better than Felix ever will.” And with her unforgettable words, she ordered the engagement portrait to be taken.

Felix was in rare form at the party. He could _not_ stop smiling and _every_ sentence was ‘Dee and I…’ ‘We are…we did…we will…’ He wanted everyone to know that his entire world revolved around Dorothea Arnault and he wouldn’t have it any other way. In fact, a world without her in it still terrified the hell out of Felix. The best part of the party was Rodrigue and Felix getting drunk to the point that they overwhelmingly agreed on one thing: They wouldn't mind if the first couple laces on Dorothea's dress popped open. Maybe that was the biggest takeaway of the evening, was how easy Felix made being in a relationship look. Of _everyone_ at the monastery, Felix was considered the least likely to have meaningful relationship of any kind...with anyone. It went unspoken, but the relationship he had with Dorothea was without complication. He should have _never_ gotten Dorothea in the first place, let alone manage a functional relationship with her. He would never admit it out loud, but he couldn't wait to be married.

And of course, there was the biggest attention whore of them all…Ferdinand, whom many mistook for Dorothea’s brother. He was stunningly dressed! He was stunningly social! He was stunningly noble! To the guests, Ferdinand was the very image of a prince charming and they were awestruck by his graces. The icing on the cake however, was Mercedes. She relished in a night of not smelling like the rubbing alcohol and medicated salve of the infirmary. Mercedes was ethereal, poised, and polished. Because of her elegance, Ferdinand _had_ to talk to every guest in attendance and introduce Mercedes. That made for a very long night. And the longer the night got, the more Mercedes and Ferdinand drank and the more they drank...the hornier they became. 

* * *

Ingrid would never turn down a free breakfast, especially one as perfectly plated as what she and Sylvain had on the table before them. The was supposed to be a post-engagement breakfast but Felix had already thrown up and wasn’t about to make it. Dorothea had the worse champagne headache of her life, Dimitri and Dedue left early to return to the monastery, and Ferdinand and Mercedes? They went to church. They were still drunk...a little, still elegant…and still _so_ horny. Between scripture readings, Mercedes told Ferdinand very quietly, and in graphic detail, what she was going to do to him after the morning sermon. They were half-tempted to leave before the last hymn. Besides, it wasn’t like they could _drink_ the cleansing wine being passed around! Mercedes' face was still flushed from all the alcohol (and sweat) from the night before. One thimble full of wine was not going to stop those church clothes from coming off...but the hymm may at least derail it. 

“Just so you know, I’m _not_ going to stop talking about last night…ever.” Sylvain said. Ingrid laughed and poured strong coffee into Sylvain’s cup. They didn’t drink coffee...but they were today.

“Last night was…let’s just say I haven’t done _that_ before.” Sylvain picked up the plate of fruit, handing it to Ingrid. 

“I think all the cocktails had you pre-heated.” Ingrid laughed again.

“I don’t think that was it. It was you. You just… _really_ hit the spot.” She said, removing the cover of her plate, revealing a beautiful eggs benedict with smoked salmon.

“Twice. I hit it twice. Don’t forget. _Twice._ That part is important.” Sylvain said, doing as she had.

“Believe me...I won’t forget. This is the best breakfast. I’m assuming Rodrigue paid for this? Goddess knows Dorothea doesn’t have any family money to contribute.” He asked.

“I’m sure he did. It’s not like he can’t afford it.” Ingrid reminded Sylvain. He nodded and shot serious eyes to her, pushing the oatmeal and berries aside.

“So, there’s…something I need to tell you.” he said, interlacing his fingers.

“Okay?” Ingrid said, not missing a bite of her benedict.

“It’s um…it’s about…how much House Gautier is _really_ worth.” It was no secret that House Gautier was well off. That was one of the reasons Sylvain could have already been married off at least a dozen times. Or, so…every eligible noble woman was certainly led to believe that House Gautier didn’t have to worry about money.

“Again…okay.” Ingrid said, unfazed and making her breakfast a priority over whatever Sylvain had to tell her. He took a deep breath.

“Okay, so…you know that my parents have done alright and…you also know that…I grew up pretty spoiled. Like, I…never wanted for anything as a kid. Um…I uh…I want to make you the primary executor and beneficiary of the Gautier money…should anything every happen to me. And…this is a conversation we _need_ to have before you and I make any further plans about our future together. …I have to tell you the truth about the money.”

“Okay…” Ingrid said, again, more interested in the fluffy biscuits on the table.

“I _really_ need you to look at me, right now.” Sylvain swallowed hard. Ingrid put her napkin aside and looked up. He was serious about this or he wouldn't dare make her stop eating.

“Listen...” she started. “…I don’t care if all the money’s gone, Sylvain. I don’t love you for that. I’d still be with you no matter…” Sylvain stopped her.

“Ingrid…House Gautier isn’t worth what most people _think_ it’s worth. The tax records report 500,000G.” Ingrid nodded.

“When I turned eighteen, my father put all the family money in my name. At the time, it was 671,000G. So…I…did some asking around…got some advice and I…invested 600,000G.” Sylvain had her attention. “For eight years, that money has been accumulating interest in a bank just over the border in Sreng.” Sylvain exhaled nervously. “It’s worth 2.5…million.” Sylvain slumped back, relieved to have finally gotten the information off his mind. Ingrid blinked repeatedly.

“You mean to tell me, you turned 600,000G into 2.5 million in eight years and you let me stuff my face with beef pot pie last night?” Sylvain laughed.

“I know how much you love beef pot pie.”

“Does anyone else know about this?” Ingrid questioned.

“No. Just you. Only you. My parents don’t even know. They think I’ve just let it set in their account. They have no clue what I’ve done.” Ingrid nodded.

“Do you have bank records?”

“I do. There are two copies of bank books. The real one is in a safety deposit box and the one that my parents keep, is a fake.” Ingrid nodded.

“Let’s see…you write a letter to my dad to get him off my back…you invest thousands in family money only to turn yourself into a millionaire…our strategy is solid!” Sylvain laughed again. It was rare to find someone you could be 100% transparent with. Any other woman would have reacted to Sylvain’s news. Most other women would be ready to take advantage of all that money. That’s what set Ingrid apart. If Sylvain hadn’t come from a noble, stable family; he wouldn’t be a catch. Thirty sexual partners, a horrible reputation, and a lifetime of philandering and low expectation did not make him a desirable husband. But Ingrid couldn’t be phased. She had already experienced Slyvain at his worst and in spite of it, she always saw his best. She saw what no one else did: A man with a brilliant mind and a very pure heart, who adored her. Being a millionaire who could make her come twice back to back was also pretty damn impressive.

“So, are you going to give me a taste of your benedict?” Sylvain said, eyeing her breakfast.

“Mmmm…here…try it.” She said, helping herself to a piece of his ribeye.

“That’s good…damn…I knew I should have gotten the steak.” She said.

“Here, I’ll trade you.” Sylvain said, shoving his plate before her, taking her benedict. It took a _really_ special kind of man to willingly give up a fifteen-ounce ribeye for eggs benedict. Ingrid had no objections to such a trade.

“I’m really proud of you…for being smart enough to know how to invest that money.” Ingrid laughed. “When we were kids you were always so much sharper than everyone else. I don’t think your parents ever noticed just how bright you were.” Sylvain watched her. Ingrid shook her head. “I’m not sure your parents have ever noticed _any_ of the things about you that set you apart from everyone else. They haven’t acknowledged a single thing you’ve accomplished.”

“Kinda’ like your dad’s never acknowledged you for…anything…at all. He sent me a letter a while back. It was a response to the fake engagement intent I sent him. All he talked about was how much stronger the Galatea-Gautier alliance would become and how he was willing to pay whatever bride price House Gautier slapped on you.”

“Yeah…my dad’s a real winner like that.” Ingrid said.

“That’s why I sent him another letter. Right after my short-spear accident. I told him that House Gautier couldn’t wait to have House Galatea as a part of their family and with all due respects House Gautier would not be accepting a bride price.” Ingrid stopped eating.

“You did that for me?” She asked, having no idea that Sylvain had kept Ingrid's father from slapping a price on Ingrid's head.

“Of course, I did. You aren’t your dad’s property.” Ingrid could feel herself tearing up. She wasn’t one to cry. In fact, the last time she cried…it too…involved her father.

“Sylvain…” she squeaked, sniffing.

“I love you. Do you have any idea how much I love you?” Sylvain asked. She smiled and wiped her eyes.

“You gave me your ribeye! If that’s not love, then I don’t know what love is.”

“That’s not _all_ I gave you. I’m the gift that gives… _twice._ ” Sylvain raised his eyebrows at Ingrid, pointing his fork in her direction. Ingrid couldn’t help but laugh. She sniffed again.

“I love you too. Thank you...for doing that. I think my dad got some kind of thrill over how much he was willing to pay a noble family for me.”

"You know what would give me a thrill?" Sylvain asked, winking at her.

"No! No, just...no...Sylvain. I am _spent_ from that little stunt last night." she said. 

"You're messed up, Ingrid. I was talking about the stack of pancakes beside you." He shook his head. "Geesh, you...have a filthy mind."

"You'd better be glad I'm even offering you these pancakes, moneybags." she said, handing Sylvain the stack.

* * *

Seteth could be painfully sexy without even trying…like when he sat behind his desk chewing on the end of his pen and contemplating the work before him. At the age of 27, he was made a father, which he considered the greatest undertaking of his life. He was now 42 and like Rodrigue Fraldarius, was one of those dads you wanted to fuck. When he would lean back in his chair, roll up his sleeves, and ponder a subject…the way he was right now…he was even _more_ a dad you wanted to fuck. He had several index cards, placed on his desk, each with names and notes he had made:

DIMITRI BLAIDDYD – Unstable. A kind man. Shattered self-worth.

EDELGARD VON HRESVELG – Threat to the Church. Unpredictable. Manipulative

HUBERT VON VESTRA – Talented. Sinister. Protective.

CLAUDE VON RIEGAN – Painfully honest. Conceals many muddied truths 

SYLVAIN GAUTIER – Intelligent. Underestimated. Strong negotiator. 

INGRID GALATEA – Determined. Confident. Stoic

FELIX FRALDARIUS – Proof that people change. Fiercely loyal.

DOROTHEA ARNAULT – True trailblazer. A survivor. Street smart.

FERDINAND VON AEGIR – Refined. Articulate. Persuasive and effective.

MERCEDES VON MARTRITZ – Unrivaled kindness. Selfless. Ideal role model.

And lastly, Seteth had one more index card…and it was blank…

BYLETH EISNER –

He stared at her name. He honestly did not know what to write on it. Seteth began to shuffle the cards around, coupling them up accordingly and scribbling more notes on each…except hers. It wasn’t all a waste of time. Before graduation, Seteth would meet personally with every graduating candidate as a kind of exit from the monastery. He needed to have necessary information such as all the traits he had observed. It was imperative that he was relevant to each graduate. He continued to move the cards around, stopping on a set:

DIMITRI BLAIDDYD BYLETH EISNER

He took Claude’s card, slowly sliding it between the two before him:

DIMITRI BLAIDDYD CLAUDE VON RIEGAN BYLETH EISNER

Seteth fixated on the combination, deep in thought. It didn’t make him any less sexy. He reached for Dimitri’s index card, pulling it away and proceeding to look at the new arrangement:

CLAUDE VON RIEGAN BYLETH EISNER

He prepared to make another move when there was a knock at his door. He flinched slightly and scooped up all of the index cards into a neat pile. “Yes, come in.” He called, placing the stack into his desk drawer as the door opened.

“Sir.” The Church counselor acknowledged him.

“Afternoon.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt. I have something for you…from the advice box.” He said handing the card over to Seteth.

“For me? Thank you.” Seteth said, taking the card.

“You’re welcome.” The counselor answered, leaving the office and closing the door behind him almost as quickly as he had arrived. Seteth turned the card over and read:

**Seteth – I must speak with you. I am going to be a father.**

**I am scared, overjoyed, and utterly unprepared. To be a leader of men is one thing, to be a parent is another.**

**For the sake of nobility and my child’s future, please lend me your wisdom and sound advice.**

Now, this was peculiar. It wasn’t dated, it wasn’t signed and Seteth’s afternoon had just taken a turn. No further details were provided. He read it again, looking for something. Anything. He thought for a moment before reaching for a blank paper from his desk. He then made a list:

Dimitri

Dedue

Sylvain

Felix

Ashe

Linhardt

Hubert

Caspar

Ferdinand

Claude

Raphael

Lorenz

Ignatz

Cyril

He studied the list, immediately eliminating some of the names:

~~Dimitri~~

~~Dedue~~

~~Sylvain~~

~~Felix~~

He laughed and crossed off the next three names:

~~Ashe~~

~~Linhardt~~

~~Hubert~~

Then, there were next ones…

Caspar

Ferdinand

“As if…” he said out loud before crossing the next name.

~~Claude~~

Raphael

Lorenz

“Chance in hell…”

~~Ignatz~~

~~Cyril~~

His list became shockingly short:

Caspar

Ferdinand

Raphael

Lorenz

He thought again, re-reading the note a third time. “For the sake of nobility…” Seteth repeated it. “For the…the sake of…nobility…nobility…” He crossed off two more names:

~~Caspar~~

Ferdinand

~~Raphael~~

Lorenz

Seteth got up from his desk and headed to the door, list in hand. He let it hang open as he made his way toward the Audience Chamber. “Geralyn! Geralyn…” he called to one of the nuns in training. She gave Seteth a respectful nod.

“Yes?”

“I need to see these two. No particular order.” Seteth circled the names with his finger. The woman took the paper.

“Yes, sir. I’ll send them.”

“Thank you!” Seteth called as he walked back to his office. While he waited, he stared at his abbreviated list of names, lost in thought. He _never_ spoke about his late wife to anyone. He recalled vividly the day he learned of her pregnancy with Flayn. He was overjoyed and she was beside herself. However, he had already been married for two years before Flayn was born. As he read the card again, he couldn’t help but put himself in the scenario. Receiving the news that you’re going to be a father is overwhelming enough…and that’s when you’re _trying_ to be one. The news would have to be downright terrifying when you _weren’t_ trying to be one.

“You wished to see me?” Ferdinand asked, closing the door. Seteth squirmed around in his desk chair, reading the message once again on the index card and tapping it against his knuckles.

“Thank you for coming at such short notice. How was Fhirdiad? How was the engagement party?” Seteth asked. “Please, sit.” Seteth offered the chair before his desk. Ferdinand had a look of pure panic overtake him.

“Fine…the party was fine! It was fine!! Everything was fine!!! Why!? What did you hear!?!?”

“Noth…nothing…I didn’t hear anything. I was just asking. Anyway, when did you…” Ferdinand panicked and cut Seteth off.

“WE DIDN’T HAVE SEX!!” Ferdinand didn’t mean to lose his composure.

“What?” Seteth questioned.

“ALRIGHT WE DID! BUT IT WASN’T THE WAY YOU THINK!” Ferdinand half-yelled.

“ _What!?”_ Seteth asked, further perplexed.

“I’M SORRY THAT I’M NOT SORRIER!” Ferdinand confessed into his sweaty palms.

“What!?”

“I’M LYING! I’M NOT SORRY AT ALL BUT I LOVE HER I SWEAR IT!”

“Ferdinand…” Seteth said calmly tapping his finger on his desk.

“HER TASTE IS AS DELICATE AS…”

“FERDINAND!” Seteth finally had to interject or this may go on for days.

“Yes?” he asked, settling down. Seteth sighed disgruntledly.

“Why don’t you…take a couple breaths? When was the last time you submitted a request to the advice box in the Cathedral?” Ferdinand’s eyes grew wide.

“IT WAS ME! I JUST NEEDED TO KNOW!!” Seteth nodded.

“When is the baby due?” All the color in Ferdinand’s face was now in a puddle on the floor.

“What?” he asked, unbuttoning the top buttons on his waistcoat.

“Were you given a date when the baby will arrive?”

“ _WHAT!?”_ Ferdinand asked, perplexed.

“Ferdinand, you asked for my guidance and I can’t help you with fatherhood unless you give me some details about the pregnancy.” The room was silent after Seteth’s words. Ferdinand looked completely blindsided and a little like he was about to collapse.

“WHAT?” he finally said. Seteth picked up the index card and flipped it over, allowing Ferdinand to read his own words. He shook his head. “How…how could you possibly think this is mine!?” Seteth flipped the card to face him once more.

“You didn’t write this?” he questioned.

“No!” he said, emphatically. Seteth thought he had it all figured out…he had deduced incorrectly.

“Very well. I’m sorry to have bothered you this afternoon, but it was nice to see you as always.”

“So, this isn’t about what Mercedes and I did in Fhirdiad?” Ferdinand questioned.

“I would _really_ prefer not knowing any specific details.” Ferdinand nodded.

“You…might find a card in the advice box…it _might_ have something to do with…where to put my hands when my tongue is…” Ferdinand quickly shook his head. “You know what, never mind. Not important. And to answer your earlier question, Fhirdiad was…it was _hot._ It was very….it was hotter than it probably should have been.” Ferdinand said, unsure whether his next reaction should be running out of this room full speed ahead or to slump into the chair…and die. Seteth nodded.

“Not going to lie, I’ve had some times like that in my life. I understand. Thank you again for seeing me.” Seteth said, turning his index card over and pushing his chair back from his desk. Ferdinand looked to Seteth curiously as he stood.

“Really?” Seteth shrugged.

“Of course. Ferdinand, I’m a man of the Goddess but I can’t stand here before you and tell you I’m not a sinner. You’re a man of the Goddess but please trust me when I say that I get it.”

“You…you do?” Ferdinand asked. Seteth had so much wisdom and life experience to offer. It was a shame that so many at the academy didn’t make an effort to get to know him or spend some time with him. Of course, he was a man of the Goddess, but he wasn’t going to deny being a man of the flesh either.

“Let’s you and I discuss it over tea sometime. You pick the day and the tea.” Ferdinand was nothing short of relieved and even pleasantly surprised.

“Consider it done! A man of your position deserves the finer things in life! I’ll choose only the best!” Ferdinand promised him.

“Excellent. I’ll see you then.” Seteth bid Ferdinand a farewell. Once alone again, he sighed and rapped the card. If he were a betting man, Seteth would have lost. Of all the men at the monastery, he would have never guessed…Seteth looked up, seeing the figure in his doorway. The door closed in a rushed thud. Seteth crossed his fingers on his desk and smiled.

“Lorenz? Congratulations.”

Lorenz shuddered and leaned against the door, he swallowed hard and felt his palms become suddenly clammy. He half smiled and half cried. “Th…tha….thank you, sir…” Lorenz could feel the overwhelming sensation of vulnerability take him over. 

* * *

They never talked about. The one time, nearly six years prior when Hilda slept with Claude. Er…maybe it was the other way around? Whatever the case, they never talked about it. Okay, it was talked about….once…awkwardly. Claude didn’t exactly regret the incident and Hilda _definitely_ didn’t regret it. And that was precisely how the one and only conversation went.

“So, how close do you think you are…from blowing it up?” Hilda asked, refilling her wine glass. Claude shook his head as he made notes on the blueprint spread out on the table.

“That entirely depends on the number of laborers Amir can secure. We need a crew of at least 175 and Amir assures me he can get them. If we can get that number, we’re looking at two to three months. And if not...springtime.” Claude made some more notes on the blueprint. Hilda appeared lost in her own thoughts.

“What…happens…to you…when you finish this project?” Claude looked up from the paper.

“What do you mean, what happens? I’m claiming my rightful place as Almyra’s king.” Claude took a long drink of wine before returning to the blueprint. He sighed. “And…it seems as I’ll be claiming it alone.” Claude’s tone was bitter. Hilda _rarely_ heard bitterness in Claude’s voice and never when it involved… _her_.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hilda asked, knowing good and well what it meant. Claude pushed his mostly empty wine glass away from the blueprint and leaned back on the ivory couch.

“It means that the woman I want to be on the Almyran throne took off and I have no clue about her whereabouts. _And_ I can’t track her because I couldn’t obtain any of her clothes with her scent! So, here I am, sitting here with you and working on blueprints for the Almyran Pass when I should be planning my wedding feast. _And_ I obviously wasn’t fucking worth it, to use her words…because she hasn’t returned from…wherever the fuck she is! _AND_ you know what, Hilda? It’s fine! It’s not like I’m angry or hurt or disappointed!” Claude shoved himself forward again and reached for the bottle of wine, pouring the rest into his glass before shoving it aside. He raised his eyebrows. “Sorry…that was…second bottle information.” Hilda watched as Claude lost himself in the measurements and lines of the blueprint. She said nothing but observed as Claude frantically made notes. She could hear the cool October air outside against the windows. It was such a mystical month. The changing leaves, the slight chill in the air…just cool enough to need a blanket. That’s when it happened, underneath the starry blanket of an October night. Hilda was laying in Claude’s arms, wrapped in heavy, smoke-laden, golden fabric scheming all the moves for the next day. She could still recall the way his fingertips felt against her scalp and she wondered: Did he ever touch Byleth that way?

She continued to watch as Claude furiously wrote. And then, without any warning…there it was. The tell-tale signed of a wet streak running down his face. Then, another…and another…and finally, Claude threw the pen down, moving his hands to his face. Hilda had _never_ heard him cry…not like this. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t hurt, or disappointed…he was heartbroken. Claude was devastated and destroyed. Sure, the plans for blowing up and constructing the pass through the Throat were on track, but what did it matter? _She_ had been gone for two months. _She_ had sent the very strong message that Claude wasn’t worth it. It was _her_ fault! _She_ was the cause of these tears! Well, _fuck her!_

Now, it was Hilda who was angry, hurt…disappointed. “Claude…” she whispered. Hilda got up and hurried to Claude’s side, pulling his weeping form into her neck. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Hearing Claude lament like this killed her. He was _so_ together. Claude could fool anyone into thinking he had everything 100% under control 100% of the time. Shamir had seen Claude crack but Hilda? She watched him crumble. Hilda could feel him become dead weight in her arms as he let his head sink into her shoulder.

Hilda was angry… _so_ angry...at Byleth Eisner. Hurt. She hurt because Claude was clearly in pain and it was the kind of pain, she couldn’t take away or diminish for him. Disappointed. Hilda was disappointed because…. why… _why_? _Why_ wasn’t it her instead of Byleth? What did Byleth ever do to deserve Claude? She had asked herself at least fifty times ‘What does Byleth have that I lack?’ It didn’t matter. Hilda knew this wasn’t about her, though…it started that way. The whole purpose of her coming over tonight was to share with Claude that her engagement was off. She didn’t know why she felt compelled to tell him. It would have to wait. For now? Claude was hers. She could hold him in her arms, feel the warmth of his body against hers...and feel his tears. 


	21. Halo

Ingrid trembled, her expression serious and intent. She tightened her grip on the reigns and kept her focus in front of her.

“Hey…here.” Felix said, tapping Ingrid’s leg and reaching into his back pocket. He handed her a two-ounce bottle. She needed the distraction. Today was the day: she was going to jump off the ledge and trust that she had enough control over the Pegasus to force it into flight on command. If this didn’t work, she would fall in excess of eighty feet straight down onto jagged rock. People didn’t survive a fall like that. With a trembling hand, Ingrid read the label:

FAERGHUS BREWED – FRALDARIAN DISTILLED

DOUBLE OAKED BOURBON 80 PROOF

Ingrid unscrewed the lid and gave the bourbon a sniff before tipping the bottle to her lips. She swallowed the two ounces faster than Felix could adjust the sword on his hip. Tossing the bottle to the wet ground, Ingrid exhaled nervously, feeling the burn of bourbon on her lips. Stupid Alois. Stupid Gilbert. They picked an awful day to for Ingrid to jump off a cliff. Fuck them. _They_ could jump off a cliff! It was a gray, overcast morning. The cold rain had been coming down in intermittent showers since the pre-dawn. The earth was soaked, and visibility was poor. If Ingrid could make this jump…well, she _needed_ to make it first.

“Sylvain, Gilbert and Alois are waiting out in the field. From the jump, it’s three miles. I ran it an hour ago. Visibility is awful so…” Felix shrugged. “…I’m sorry…I don’t know what other advice to give you.”

“Where are you going to be?” Ingrid asked, almost as if she wanted Felix on the back of the Pegasus with her.

“I’ll be right here until you make the jump.” Felix promised her.

“Oh Goddess…” Ingrid said, feeling her nerves ball up again at the thought Felix being the last person she had contact with before this damn horse got into the air. “Felix…please… _please…_ ” She nervously looked up into the bleak sky, feeling the rain begin to spit. “…if I…if something goes wrong with this jump…and I…don’t make it to the field…” her breath shuddered. “…tell Sylvain that I love him. Tell him that I love him and that he’s my best friend in the _whole_ world and…just tell him for me. Will you?” Felix was speechless. He awkwardly looked away from Ingrid and swallowed the lump in his throat elicited by her words. He closed his eyes hard and turned to face her.

“Do you trust me?” Felix asked seriously, grabbing her hand with his and trying to steady his composure.

“Yeah, I trust you.” she answered, feeling tears streak her face.

“Then _you_ say those exact words to Sylvain when you see him in the field. Go make this jump.” Felix practically squeezed her hand off. “And when I see you back at the monastery later, we’re…we’re gonna’ celebrate until we are _shitfaced_.” Felix’s words made Ingrid laugh, though uneasily. She needed to hear something… _anything_ to give her the final bit of courage to make this jump. She squeezed Felix’s hand and shook her head. “Ingrid, promise _me_ you’ll tell Sylvain...” She continued to shake her head nervously.

“I promise.” She assured Felix. He nodded.

“Alright, here. One for the road.” He said, reaching into his pocket and breaking the seal on another two-ounce bottle of whiskey. With a shaky hand, Ingrid took the bottle and guzzled it down before handing it back to Felix. She looked at him once more as the rain began increase in droplet size. Without another word, she exhaled and gave the Pegasus a light whip with the reigns. She needed momentum and a lot of it to get the Pegasus airborne in one jump. Felix could feel his heart pound as the drizzling rain hit his face. He stood motionless as Ingrid increased her speed…. closer and closer. She watched in horror as the edge was upon her. It would all be instinctual now. All she had to do was pull back on the reigns and that damn Pegasus was supposed to take flight on command. This was it. She was out of ground.

Ingrid pulled back and closed her eyes, feeling a sinking pit in her stomach. Oh…shit…she was _airborne_. The Pegasus let out a long whinny and Ingrid swore she felt like she was falling through the rain and the heavy cloud cover, faster, lower, her body weight in her ankles. The rain stung her face as she plummeted. She felt like she was going to lift out of the saddle because of how quickly the two were descending. Suddenly, Ingrid could feel her body crash into itself as if she had just hit a wall. The Pegasus had opened its wings, a literal, natural air brake. Stupid Gilbert had been right all along…trust the Pegasus and she would do what nature intended. Ingrid could feel herself sliding back in the saddle as the Pegasus climbed in altitude and let out another whinny.

Felix panicked. He couldn’t see Ingrid through the cloud cover, and he couldn’t hear the Pegasus. He swore the sound of his own heart drowned out any other sounds or thoughts he had. Oh Goddess, had she _really_ gone down!? Did she not make it!? And then…through the wispy edges of the heavy clouds…a silhouette. She had made it. Felix was overjoyed at her accomplishment. He could feel tears of relief and excitement streak his face.

“YOU DID IT INGRIIIIIID!!!! YOU DID IT!!!!” He yelled into the desolate sky. He didn’t know if Ingrid could actually hear him but seeing her soar into the heavy clouds was awe-inspiring. Ingrid wasn’t prepared for the cold haze. Combined with the full-on rain, she would be completely soaked and chilled to the bone when she landed. Now that the initial fear of the jump had passed, all she had to do was allow the Pegasus to soar, with an occasional tug to change the Pegasus direction. It was spiritual because Ingrid was truly _alone_ in the clouds with nothing but the Pegasus and her own will. She could hardly see in any direction, which should have been scarier than what she thought it to be. The Pegasus gave an occasional snort and a flap to keep her moving. It didn’t seem to mind the rain. Pegasus’ were built for the elements and their muscular bodies were covered in a water-resistant coat.

It would take Ingrid fifteen minutes to fly the three miles into the field where Sylvain, Gilbert and Alois awaited her. The rain felt like needles against her face and she couldn’t see _anything._ Ingrid was relying entirely on the instincts of the Pegasus. The appropriate reaction in this situation would have been to panic because Ingrid wasn’t even positive that she was flying in the correct direction, but her nerves were greater than her sense of disorientation. The cloud-cover aided Ingrid from looking down and seeing just _how_ high off the ground she truly was.

“She should be landing soon. I remember the first time I trained in this field! Ah, what a year it was! The good ol’ days of being a student. Why, I even remember when…”

“Alois! Please!” Sylvain snapped at him. Alois wouldn’t stop talking and Sylvain was already on edge. He didn’t need Alois’s incessant babbling making his nervous state even worse. And, when Alois wasn’t blabbing…Gilbert was….

“You know Alois, I recall a time when neither of us possessed the determination Ingrid does! Why, it’s a wonder we made it to Knighthood. I just never…” Sylvain couldn’t take it.

“GILBERT! ALOIS!” he paused, running both hands through his hair in frustration. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell it’s just…neither of you know how nervous she was over this…how nervous _I am_ for her. All he wanted was to see Ingrid’s form in the clouds. He didn’t care how hard the rain came down or how much Gilbert and Alois complained about getting soaked, all he wanted was for her to complete this flight…if she even got off the ledge in the first place. Sylvain opened his palm. Today was the day. It wasn’t at all how he had planned but there was never a _right_ time for these things. Felix was proof of that. Sylvain ran his finger over the double halo diamond. It was a showpiece. Felix started a trend among nobles: the trend of _not_ using the Noble’s ring for a proposal. Felix knew all the details. It was supposed to have been a beautiful day full of excitement and anticipation, and the ultimate celebration to acknowledge Ingrid's flight and engagement. Instead, it was a horrible day, Sylvain a nervous wreck because he wanted more than anything for Ingrid to make this flight and the celebration? That was negligible at this point. Sylvain had been sitting on this ring for at least two months. It wasn’t that he had any doubts, but he and Ingrid had been busy with other distractions over the past few months. 

Gilbert and Alois had finally taken the hint. Sylvain swallowed hard and clenched his fist, uncomfortable in the silence that filled the air since the babble stopped…part of him wished they would start again because it at least helped drown out his own anxieties. The longer he stood there, feeling as if time had stopped, the more he needed to hear the two idiots whom he had just shut up. Sylvain reluctantly turned around, “Alois…how long has it been?”

“Well, I can’t see the sun so I can’t use that to judge but if we consider that we left Ingrid…”

“Just…look at your pocket watch!” Sylvain snapped, no room for patience.

“Why, yes! It’s been ten minutes!” he chuckled.

“Soon. It should be soon then. She should be here soon.” He said nervously.

“She should! That is, unless she didn’t make it off the cliff, or the horse isn’t cooperating.” Alois suggested.

“That’s right! But, if she didn’t make the jump, Felix would have made it back to the monastery to get a healer. He runs an eight-minute mile, you know. He’d have help on the way in…”

“Goddess…damn it, Gilbert! Don’t say things like that!! Stop it! Just…just…don’t say that!” Sylvain said, frustrated. “And it’s seven. Felix runs a seven-minute mile!” Gilbert exchanged an uncomfortable look with Alois. Ten minutes? _Ten minutes!?_ It felt like hours. The next five minutes would likely go on forever. Sylvain wasn’t one to be a pessimist or one to assume the worst, but he just wanted Ingrid to appear _so_ badly. She would land, her accolades would be sung by Alois and Gilbert. They would leave the field, get in out of the rain, and it would be just them…just Ingrid and Sylvain…yeah, yeah that was good. He had a plan. Was it a good one? “That plan sucks. You suck.” Sylvain said to himself, trying to re-work the whole thing in his mind. Maybe he would just wait until another day entirely. No. Felix was getting Dorothea and they would be waiting. He couldn’t delay it. He didn’t _want_ to delay it. The rain beat the ground harder, the cold showers dancing in the grass. Sylvain internally panicked: What if…just what if stupid Gilbert’s comments were right. What if Ingrid didn’t make it? The very thought of it was enough to cause tears to streak Sylvain’s face. He couldn’t handle the thought of a life without Ingrid. She was the reason for…everything. Sylvain never regained full range of motion in his shoulder after his short spear accident, but with Ingrid’s support he regained a lot of it. She was his rock. His beacon. She was…oh shit she was coming through the clouds…and fast!! Sylvain let out a relieved wail into his open palm. _She made it._ Ingrid proved what he already knew: she was fierce. Gilbert and Alois cheered at the sight of her. They were beyond excited.

Ingrid braced as her Pegasus touched the ground, jarring her body and nearly throwing her from its back. She wasn’t even aware of her surroundings at the landing. Ingrid couldn’t feel how cold and soaked she was, she didn’t realize that she and her Pegasus were covered in blotches of mud from the landing. She couldn’t believe that she did it. Ingrid finally snapped to her senses feeling her Pegasus come to a slow trot, snorting and carrying about as if she were proud of this accomplishment. Ingrid felt her body relax. She didn’t try to hide her smile as she pumped her fist in the air. Her thighs trembled as she gave the Pegasus a firm pat on the neck. “I DID IT!” she wept to Sylvain, practically jumping out of the saddle. She nearly fell over from her weakened body, seeing as her muscles were still reflexively tensing up. She threw her arms around him, shaking all over.

“You did it…” he whispered into the top of her head, trying to contain his own tears. “Goddess…you’re so cold!” he said.

“Am I?” she asked, still not feeling her own skin through the armor.” There was part of Alois that didn’t think she would make a clean landing. In fact, an even smaller part of him thought she _and_ the Pegasus would tire and be forced into an early landing. Then there was Gilbert, he applauded her but was also taken aback by the fact that she made it in spite of the rain and the wind and the wretched day. Of course, that was part of the test though it was unbeknownst to Ingrid. Sylvain’s body was so warm. “Uuughhh…I’m so…I’m…like…” she laughed.

“You don’t have to say anything else.” Sylvain squeezed her wet body against his. “I’m so proud of you.” Ingrid looked up from Sylvain’s chest.

“Thank you…I was _so_ nervous. I’m _still_ nervous!” Sylvain didn’t say anything, he just looked at her, overwhelmed and unable to find any of the words he wanted.

“What’s wrong? Why aren’t you saying anything else?” she asked, finally feeling sensation come back to her skin.

“Ingrid, you’re really _raining_ on my parade! Let’s get back to the monastery and have a proper celebration!” Alois called to her. Ah, he was just _sooo_ hilarious.

“In a minute, Alois!!” Sylvain called almost beyond irritated.

“I’m sorry. I can’t…I’m just really…I can’t believe you. You’re so incredible.” Sylvain dropped to the wet mud beneath him. “I want you forever and I will spend the rest of my life making yours better if you’ll marry me.” It was the last straw, the one thing that made Ingrid’s nervous bladder lose control. No woman on in the world _ever_ wanted to pee down their leg mid-proposal but, no woman flew through a cold rain shower for three miles either.

“Yes! Yes! And a hundred times over, yes! I’ll marry you! And I’m sorry…my bladder couldn’t take it anymore.” Ingrid laughed.

“It’s fine…it’s fine…” Sylvain said still overwhelmed, taking Ingrid’s shaking hand and unfastening her glove. He slid that breathtaking double halo on her finger. It looked _so_ beautiful. But it didn’t shine nearly like Ingrid. Sylvain didn't need all the right words at the right time. He had the right woman.

* * *

Edelgard was breathless. Her chest heaved and her pulse raced out of control. She could feel the sweat on her neck. Petra crept up Edelgard’s naked form, her lips glistening in accomplishment. Petra’s hot breath hit Edelgard’s neck as her lips pressed into sweaty skin.

“Petra…” Edelgard sighed, still feeling the race of her own pulse. “You’re so good…” Edelgard said softly, resting her palm against soft, plum hair.

“Mmm…better than Hubert?” Edelgard smiled.

“Yes…yes, better than Hubert. You are...oooooh.” Petra made herself comfortable in Edelgard’s embrace. They lie there in silence as Edelgard felt the intense rush inside her body.

“You’re not going to leave him…are you?” Petra finally asked, breaking their sweet, blissful silence. So much for a content evening.

“Petra…” Edelgard began, her tone indicative that this was one subject she didn’t want to broach.

“I’m serious. If you aren’t going to leave him…then what are we doing?”

“Why can’t we just enjoy this time toget…”

“Because! I want you, Edie. I want you to myself. Let’s leave! We could leave the monastery…run away to Brigid. Start a life there. You and me.” Petra painted an unrealistic picture as if it were easy to accomplish.

“Do you hear yourself?” Edelgard asked. “It’s not that simple, Petra. You know that. I’m to marry Hubert. And you know that.”

“And that no room for me, leaves. Where is it that I fit?” she asked, becoming frustrated yet hating herself for not _just_ lying in Edelgard’s arms. Petra had Edelgard right where she wanted her: longing for more of Petra's sweet tongue that could easily drive her to climax. 

“Petra…” Edelgard began again.

“Answer the question! Are you using me until our time here is…”

“No! No, I’m not using you! I swear it. I promise you that. If you have to know, Petra, I love you and I have a plan.” Edelgard said, seeing as her post-orgasm relaxation was essentially ruined.

“You…you _love_ me?” Petra asked, having never heard Edelgard say these words to her.

“I do love you and…I plan on asking Hubert if he will allow you into our marriage. He won’t say no. Petra, Hubert will do _anything_ I want him to but I need to speak with him first I wanted to speak. If you will join me…with Hubert, I will ensure that any accusations brought against you by the Empire are lifted. Your status as a political prisoner will be completely erased. You will be granted complete immunity in the Empire and...” Edelgard took Petra tighter in her arms, placing her palm on Petra's face. "...the Empire will annex Brigid. We will take care of Brigid financially and if you choose to rule, you will do so with help from the Empire." Petra didn’t know what to say. Was Edelgard truly saying these things to her!? This was...it was an offer proving difficult to turn down...and equally difficult to accept. 

Edelgard played her best hand: telling Petra she loved her and offering up Petra's safety and entitlement on a silver platter. But the price…Petra desperately wanted a romantic relationship with Edelgard but it was obvious to her that in order to have it, she would have to agree to being the supporting lover not the lead. It was Edelgard's ultimate manipulation intertwined with her own desires to have it all. Strong-arm Hubert and dangle herself _and_ the security of a nation over Petra's head.

“You really do love me?” Petra asked, running a hand over Edelgard’s scalp. Edelgard shook her head. As far as she was concerned, Edelgard was going to make her own rules. After all, it was _the Church_ that dictated the rules of who you love…and El wasn’t having _any_ of that. Edelgard squirmed around, taking Petra in her arms, her warm, bare skin against Petra’s.

“I love you, Petra. I want you to think about it.” She said softly before pressing her lips into Petra’s.

* * *

“Thank you, for meeting with me today.” Mercedes sighed nervously. “I asked you here because I need to assemble a team…a medical team. I’ll head it, of course but I need at least one volunteer to aide in the delivery of a baby. So, what I’m getting at is that I need to form an obstetrics and maternity team. That’s never been done before…here…at Garreg Mach.” Mercedes’ words were met bewilderment.

“ _What!?_ A… _maternity_ …delivery of a baby… _a child_!? No! It’s absurd! Absolutely not. That’s complete taboo for…for a _man_ to be present when…I will have _no_ part of this. How is…what you’re requesting…how can you sleep at night with such a lewd idea!” It was obvious Hubert was on edge and highly bothered by Mercedes’ request. For once, Mercedes was almost offended by his reaction and she wasn’t going to stay quiet about it.

“Well, I’m sorry, Hubert. I’m sorry that you consider the natural processes of a woman’s body to be, using your words, _lewd_. Strange, you don’t think it’s at all lewd or even sinful when you’ve had two women in your…” Hubert stood up abruptly. The most powerful woman at the monastery wasn’t Shamir, it wasn’t Catherine, hell it wasn’t even Rhea. It was Mercedes. With the snap of her fingers, she could take down _anyone_ if she chose to do so. Divulging medical information came at a price, your personal matters were also drug into it. Mercedes kept extensive and detailed notes about everything everyone told her, and she could use that information to her advantage. Hubert's his eyes ripped Mercedes apart. She didn’t care, rip away. Mercedes had half of the Black Eagles batting for her team anyway. Most were intimidated by Hubert…not her. She locked soft eyes with him, which made him even more uncomfortable.

“This is ridiculous!” he huffed before leaving the small table in his flustered state. She watched as he flung the door open, listening to his angered footsteps in the hall dissipate.

“I’m very sorry the two of you had to see that.” She apologized to Linhardt and Marianne. “I asked Hubert to join us because of his leadership ability. Linhardt, I chose you because of your ability to research, learn from text and your attention to detail. Marianne, I chose you because of your compassion, your knowledge and your experience.” She praised them.

“Oh…” Marianne bowed her head, staring into her lap. “That’s…kind of you to say but, I don’t really have any talents.”

“I’d…like to take it easy...though, I do appreciate your flattery.” Linhardt protested. Mercedes was feeling disappointed.

“I know what I’m asking is huge. And you have every right to say no. But…we have a classmate who is expecting, and she is due in April. I know she would be much more comfortable with familiar faces than an outside physician coming in from elsewhere. There is time for us to learn so much and work together.” Mercedes looked first to Marianne. “Marianne, you know how to birth foals. You know what the expectant mares need. You can read them, and your bedside manner is calming. You would make an outstanding midwife.” Marianne looked up from her lap to Mercedes. She had never thought of it that way…it was true she had helped birth many foals. “And Linhardt! You’re so precise, you research things thoroughly, you don’t get upset or worked up, and you don’t make mistakes. You would be perfect for delivery because of your composure.” Mercedes paused because neither Linhardt nor Marianne had said anything. “This is why I specifically asked the two of you. I think you’re best qualified.” Linhardt and Marianne exchanged glances.

“Can I just…be honest about something.” Linhardt lowered his voice. “I’ve never seen one before.” Mercedes could hardly hear him.

“You’ve…never seen…what?”

“A…you know…” Linhardt squirmed. “A vagina…” he mouthed without saying it out loud. Sweet Mercedes. She could have taken this opportunity to judge the hell out of Linhardt but she wasn’t that kind of person. Instead, she reassuringly said,

“It’s okay. We’ll start from the very beginning.”

“Wh…what’s the beginning?” Marianne asked a bit fearfully.

“The science of conception…and… _contra_ ception.” Mercedes could feel two sets of eyes meeting hers. The sales pitch just kept getting better. “If you two will agree to do this with me, I promise you can ask me _anything_ and I will be completely honest. And, if I don’t know the answer, I’m sure I get one.” The three were silent, Marianne locking eyes with Mercedes, shifting her gaze to Linhardt, then back to Mercedes. Marianne nodded.

“I’ll do it.” She answered. The pressure was on Linhardt. If he agreed to help Mercedes, he would be the first male mage to witness and aid the birth of a child at Garreg Mach. His decision could…or could not…make Garreg Mach history. He sighed.

“Okay. I’m in. I’ll do it too.” Mercedes didn’t attempt to hide her smile. She was overjoyed.

“Awww, I’m so excited! Thank you so much! Keep in mind anything we discuss is entirely confidential and I’m going to reveal that the mother is Lysithea and the father is Lorenz. Now for your first lesson: how the due date is estimated.” Mercedes said, spinning around and reaching for both Lysithea and Lorenz’s medical files. Both Marianne and Linhardt’s demeanor had completely changed from fear and apprehension to curiosity, intrigue, and then, pride. Pride that Mercedes would choose them above anyone else.

* * *

The choir sounded fantastic; better than they had in years. When Ferdinand lead, the choir followed his every command at exactly the right cues. They were _his_. Membership had surged from fifty-five to ninety. With Manuela no longer directing, the interest level had dramatically increased. It wasn’t that Manuela was a poor vocal coach. She had done wonders with both Ferdinand and Dorothea but as a director she was ineffective and unorganized. Ferdinand had successfully overhauled the entire thing. Technically, the choir was _theirs_ , but Dorothea had missed so many rehearsals that it was essentially Ferdinand’s. Dorothea had no arguments with this.

Today was a solo session in the cathedral with Ferdinand’s star soprano. As Dorothea watched and listened, she found herself looking at the blonde version of…her…five years ago. She watched the girl’s mannerisms. She listened intently as Ferdinand coached her and plucked out every pitch on the piano. It was a little-known fact that he could play. He mostly taught himself though Manuela had given him a few lessons. Over the years, Ferdinand could fool an untrained ear into thinking he’d taken lessons since childhood. He could play the isolated vocal parts and he could accompany with ease. Dorothea listened to the girl’s beautiful and clear tone, her outstanding projection, her range…her breasts…shoved in Ferdinand’s face completely on purpose. Shit…she _was_ Dorothea five years ago…

It was _so_ obvious! The way she laughed, the way she flipped her hair, the way she leaned over the edge of the piano…oh Goddess she _wanted_ him! He had done wonders as a vocal coach but the _real_ reason this girl worked so hard was her raging libido.

“ _Dorothea Arnault!”_ she fanned over Dee’s presence. She nodded at the girl “I’ve heard so much about you! I want to be just like you!”

“Well you’re…you’re well on your way.” Dorothea stated facetiously. The girl laughed.

“Alright! Next week?” Ferdinand asked her, flipping the page of his agenda.

“Yes! You name the time.” She said leaning over the piano again.

“Thursday. 2:30. I’ll see you then!” Ferdinand promised her, writing it in his agenda before she packed up her things and took off out of the cathedral. Ferdinand was thrilled, looking to Dorothea for approval.

“She’s wonderful isn’t she?” he asked eagerly.

“Oh, she’s wonderful alright. Wonderfully horny.” Ferdinand was appalled.

“What!?!? Dorothea! This is a _cathedral!!!”_ He snapped at her.

“Ferdie, that girl’s breasts were out more than my own at my engagement party and you were there…you know those things weren’t exactly tucked in. Are you not getting… _the message_ …she is clearly sending to you?” Dorothea pushed her breasts up higher as she spoke to prove a point. Ferdinand gasped.

“Dorothea! I can’t believe you would think such a…”

“Of course, she sounds beautiful! She’d do you whatever you told her with that voice. She’d do whatever you told her with her mouth. She’d fuck you on the piano!”

“ _This. Is. A. Cathedral!!!!”_ He half-whispered, half exasperatedly huffed. 

“You’ve seriously never noticed. You _really_ think it’s just a vocal lesson? You poor oblivious man!”

“She is my student; I am her instructor!” Ferdinand thought for a moment. “There was one day…that she asked me to lunch…lunch that _she_ had prepared. He gasped. “She told me she was twenty and that she liked older men!!! _”_

“Oh shit…she _is_ good.” Dorothea mumbled. “How did you answer her?”

“I…I said, well, that’s nice and went on with lunch! I didn’t understand why she was so disappointed in my reaction!” Dorothea shook her head.

“Mercedes is so lucky to have an older, wiser man who is picks up on _all_ of the subtleties.” She said sarcastically. Ferdinand looked at her, in confusion.

“Older? I’m younger than Mercedes…by five years.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa…you’re… _five years_ younger…than Mercedes? Damn. She robbed the cradle. I’m impressed. The charms…or breasts…of a younger woman cannot sway you.”

“You’ve ruined my vocal lesson next Thursday. All this time I thought we just had chemistry! And _you_ have to go and drag the _sex_ into it!” Ferdinand scolded.

“I don’t make the rules. I can’t help it she wants to fuck you.”

“ _Cathedral!!!”_ Ferdinand reminded her through clenched teeth.

“But seriously? You’ve done a fantastic job with her. Keep it up. She sounds exquisite.”

“Thank you! I appreciate that!”

“I have to ask you something…can you cash this?” Dorothea said, reaching into the inner pocket on her dress, pulling out a folded check. Ferdinand opened it.

“I can cash it but not until tomorrow.” Dorothea had received a check from the Mittlefrank Opera Company in the amount of 11,000G. It was back pay for performances over the course of four years that couldn’t be paid due to war effort costs. Ideally, Dorothea would hand the check immediately to Felix and he could deposit it into the House Fraldarius account. However, the check could only be cashed at an Adrestian bank due to the manner it was issued. Because Dorothea had renounced her allegiance to Adrestia, she had three choices to cash it: Edelgard, Hubert and Ferdinand…that left her with one hope to cash it: Ferdinand.

“Really? You can cash it? You can…you can get…11,000G?”

“Yeah, let’s leave tomorrow in the morning if you’re available. It’s a two-hour trip to the bank. We’ll count it out.”

“How are you able to…just… _get_ that much money?” she asked.

“My dad was good at investing and he taught me how to do it.” Dorothea nodded.

“I wish I could have learned something like that. Of course, Felix will teach me what he knows. We talk about it a lot. I just wish girls had those same opportunities to learn those things. I barely had an education, let alone knowing how to plan for my future.”

“Well, if I ever have any daughters, it is my noble duty to teach them about money. How to save it, how to make it work for them.” Dorothea smiled.

“That’s very admirable of you. So, let’s say tomorrow at 9:00?”

“Nine it is!” Dorothea said.

* * *

Lysithea learned that she was pregnant on October, 5 after Mercedes had given her six tests. They were _all_ positive. She estimated that Lysithea became pregnant sometime in July and had an approximate due date of April. Lysithea knew _exactly_ when it had happened. She didn’t have to even kind of guess. Much to her surprise, Lorenz was much calmer about the whole thing than she. He wasn’t prepared for any of this, but there was no way in hell he would bail on his unborn child, either. The biggest challenge for him, was how to break this news to his family. After much consideration and sound advice from Seteth, he decided against telling them...for now. Lysithea supported his decision. She didn’t want their child’s future jeopardizes on account of Lorenz’s strict and traditional family.

Thus far, the thing she hated most about pregnancy was the morning sickness…which she had… _All. Fucking. Day._ At the same time, she was _so_ excited. Sure, the initial news was quite shocking, absolutely unexpected yet at the same time, not impossible. Mercedes had already conducted a very lengthy session with Lorenz and Lysithea. They spent over two hours together talking about the pregnancy. Both found immense comfort and relief in Mercedes. They felt like they could tell her anything or ask her anything. Already, Lysithea was given three different herbs, and two vitamins to take daily. Mercedes warned that the pregnancy would be high risk do to Lysithea’s compromised body. And apart from the all-day morning sickness, the best thing about pregnancy was the sweet apple blend tea that Lorenz made for her whenever she wanted it.

“You can’t eat cake for this entire pregnancy. I’m only doing this because you’ve thrown everything else up.” Lorenz cautioned, sitting a nine-inch round, strawberry cake in front of Lysithea.

“I would never throw up cake!” she proclaimed. Lorenz smiled, watching her dive into it as if she hadn’t eaten in three weeks. He wasn’t entirely wrong about that. Lysithea hadn’t been able to keep breakfast down for weeks and already there were certain smells that triggered an intense nauseous response. After overcoming the initial terrifying truth, Lorenz had come to terms with the fact that he was going to be a father. He hadn’t entirely accepted it, but he was getting there. He had already proven himself to be an excellent caregiver to Lysithea. He couldn’t imagine the changes happening in her body and he _wanted_ to care for her. “Are you mad at me?” she asked out of nowhere. Lorenz looked at her oddly.

“Am I mad at you?” he questioned.

“Because I’m pregnant?” she pressed.

“What!? Of course not! You wouldn’t be pregnant if not for me! If anything, _you_ should be mad at me.” Lorenz was so refined. He could sit there in his chair across from Lysithea and look like an expensive statue that someone had commissioned for their garden. While he didn’t have the elegance that Ferdinand possessed, he had an aura of grace about him that no one else could come close to having. “However, I must be honest with you, Lysithea it's not the ideal situation but I stand ready. A _true_ noble wouldn’t have gotten you pregnant _now_ but even the finest nobles have flaws.”

“Flaws? Seriously? That’s what you’re calling it? Just say it, you didn’t pull out, I didn’t ask you to and here we are.” Lysithea paused and shoved another bite of cake in her mouth.

“Ugh! It’s so crass when you say it like that!” Lorenz said, flipping his hair to one side. Lysithea’s expression turned serious.

“What if I lose it?”

“Mercedes is going to take good care of you. You won’t lose it.” Lorenz assured her, his palm on her knee.

“I know she will but…you know…about my health. It almost makes me think…” Lorenz interrupted her, leaning in against Lysithea.

“Ssshhh…” He moved his hand to hers. “Let’s not worry about that now. We have many more obstacles before us, and the most important thing is keeping your present health in check at all times. And that, I vow to do. We don’t know how to be parents right now, Lysithea but we have each other.” Lorenz’s words were sincere. So sincere in fact, Lysithea stopped eating the cake. She stared, thinking about how much she and Lorenz had matured over the last year. They were once pettier than they ever wanted to admit but now, nothing they ever thought was important mattered.

“I love you. I love you and I...I can’t wait to…figure all this out as this baby grows.” Lysithea laughed. “Of all our classmates, I thought Dorothea would be the one who ended up pregnant. And, I thought it would be been by Sylvain.” She shook her head. “Funny how sometimes _nothing_ goes as you plan it.” Lorenz laughed at her comment and smiled.

“I love you, too, my dearest. And I must agree. It would be much suited to Sylvain for him to be in this situation.” Lysithea smiled, continuing to eat her cake.

“It’s ironic. Mercedes couldn’t give me the shot. I was probably already pregnant when I asked her for it.” She looked at Lorenz. It made her mind race. Would this baby look like him? Would it look like her? Would it look like the two of them?

“Blonde.” She said, out of nowhere.

“I’m sorry?” Lorenz questioned.

“My natural hair color was blonde. Dark blonde. I used to have brown eyes.” She shared. A tear formed in Lysithea’s eye. She shook her head. “I used to be pretty.”

“Goddess no! No, don’t say that…please don’t say such a thing…” Lorenz said, hugging Lysithea in against him. “You’re beautiful. You are…the most beautiful woman.” Lysithea relaxed into his shoulder.

“I love you, Lorenz.” Lysithea said it in her mind but never out loud, until today.

* * *

“I can’t believe I’m sitting here where the good girls come to go bad. It’s nice. It’s _real_ nice, Claude. I can see the appeal. I think it’s all the white. Makes me wanna’ get dirty. Speaking of that, what’s the filthiest thing you’ve done since you’ve lived here?” Shamir asked.

“Would you stop! Get dressed! Your bride is waiting on you. And it’s not _white!_ It’s _ivory!_ ” Claude encouraged her as Shamir stalled and stalled her own wedding. “Here, you need to take a long drink of this.” Shamir could hear Claude pop the cork on the champagne bottle behind her as she stared at herself in the mirror.

“Ugh! It’s going to take more than champagne. I’m so fucked! This wedding is fucked!” Shamir rubbed her forehead.

“You’re not fucked! You look, pretty! Now, if you would _just_ finish getting dressed.” Claude told her, pouring Shamir’s glass.

“That’s the problem, Claude! I don’t do pretty! Have you even met me!? I wearing _eyeshadow_!?”

“Okay, here…let’s toast to you and Catherine Charon making history today as the first same sex union Seteth has ever performed.” Claude held his glass to Shamir’s.

“Hmm…that really is a good toast. But I want to add to it…” she said. “To everything you said and also all the pussy I’m getting tonight in _your_ bed.”

“That’s the weirdest wedding toast I’ve ever head.” Claude said, agreeing to drink to that.

“But it’s _true!_ ” Shamir sighed and downed half the glass. “Alright, here we go.” She disgruntledly began to change into the white dress that she had begrudgingly chosen only two days ago.

“So, let’s talk about that woman. Shar, is it? She is _hot._ She is…wow…hot. Tell me the truth, have you slept with her? You’ve slept with her, haven’t you?” Shamir shot prying eyes at Claude while she fumbled with a zipper.” He didn’t answer but instead worked harder on the champagne. “Don’t look at me like that! This is my wedding day you have to tell me the truth.”

“Ooooh now it’s your wedding day! When you want something it’s all about you, the bride! No, I have _not_ slept with her…but I’d do some stuff to her fiancé.” Shamir shook her head.

“ _You_ …are a slut, you know that? _You_ are slutty. You’d sleep with anything that had a pretty face or a nice set of abs.”

“That is…not true! I am _not_ slutty…okay, maybe a little.” Claude said.

“Have you seen her naked at least? You could tell me _all_ about that.”

“Would you…get dressed!?”

“Oooh that’s a good girl who’s gone _very_ bad in this penthouse, am I right?”

“She’s done some things here.” Claude vaguely said.

“To you? With you?” Shamir gasped. “With you _and_ him!?

“Shamir! D _ressed!_ _NOW_!” Claude begged her.

Meanwhile…

“And that’s how I discovered I was _definitely_ a lesbian!” Catherine explained, taking a drink of champagne. Sharmayne nodded her head, fascinated. She pointed at Catherine.

“I’ve only known you for three hours, but I would defend the hell out of you if you were in a tight situation.”

“That’s sweet of you! And hey, I won’t lie. You’re hot. If I weren’t getting married...I might make you reconsider. The whole…man…thing, I mean.” Shar nodded again. She smiled.

“Thank you, Catherine. I’ll take that as a compliment. Sharmayne thought for a moment. “I’ve never been with a woman. It’s not that I’m against it but…” she shook her head. “…when I met Amir, I knew he was it for me.”

“That’s a gorgeous man you have. It’s in his eyes, you know?” Shar laughed.

“If you think it’s in his eyes then you should see him with fewer clothes.” Catherine nodded.

“Ya’ know, I… _just_ can’t get in to that kind of thing. But _you_ are welcome to strip down and I won’t argue at all.” Shar smiled.

“You make me blush. Maybe when I have a lot of champagne in me, I’ll flash you before Amir, Priscilla, Claude and I leave you and your soon-to-be-wife alone.”

“Leaving? Where are you going?”

“I’m most sure. Claude arranged it but you can’t have a proper wedding night with a herd of Almyrans here.”

“That’s thoughtful of all you, just know that _you_ are welcome to stay.” Catherine smiled and gave Sharmayne a wink.

And then, there was the conversation in the living room…..

“I think the problem with these youths today is that they have no respect whatsoever! I was raised in a time when rules were followed, and they _meant_ something! Do you know what my daughter had the audacity to do? She met a boy without telling me!!! She’s fifteen! She has studies and church to worry! That _is_ and _should_ be her priority! I hate boys…” Seteth vented. Amir shook his head in agreement.

“You have a fifteen-year-old? Your hands are full. I dread that one turning fifteen.” Amir said, nodding in Priscilla’s direction.”

“How old is she?”

“Seven.” Seteth was surprised.

“She’s… _seven_? She _acts_ …”

“I know…” Amir said before Seteth could finish. “Priscilla had to grow up fast. Shar’s done a fine job with her.”

“She’s a lovely girl. It’s easy to see you’ve done a fine job with her.” Seteth complimented him. Amir took a drink of champagne.

“She’s not mine. I’m adopting her when I marry Shar. The only father she’s known before I showed up…is Claude. And… let’s just say she didn’t learn _that_ from me…” Amir crooked his head over toward Priscilla who was filling a champagne flute with strawberry punch.

“Ah. Claude’s parenting. I get it…you’re screwed.” Seteth said.

“I am…that, I am. But I love ‘er…no matter how many bad habits Claude has instilled. I owe him for being the man that she and Shar never had in their life. Claude’s done a lot for them.” Amir shook his head as Priscilla carefully picked up the glass, filled to the brim and nearly overflowing. “Priscilla, don’t you dare spill that.” Amir cautioned her, calling across the room.

“I won’t. I’m concentrating.” She said, cupping the glass and taking a drink as quickly as she could. She was more than pleased with herself for drinking the glass down before the entire thing could end up in the floor. “Ahhhh!” she smacked her lips at the berry taste. “My moment has arrived!!” Seteth immediately looked at Amir.

“You are _so_ screwed.” He reiterated, raising his glass to Amir’s.

“I’ll drink to that.”

“You know, something else with today’s youth that bothers me is…” Seteth stopped at the sight before him. Catherine had appeared from the extra bedroom and reached out her hand to take his champagne.

“Listen to you, today’s youth…blah, blah, blah…don’t you have a lesbian wedding to get to?” she teased him.

“Wow! You look pretty!” Priscilla proclaimed, her smile lighting up her face. Seteth stared at her, mouth agape.

“Catherine…” he mumbled incoherently. She wasn’t pretty, she was _gorgeous._ In all their time spent together, all their heckling, all their bantering…he’d never seen her shine like this. Hell, he didn’t even realize she had so many face framing layers of blonde and rose gold hair. “You…are… _hot_!” She gave Seteth a wink. Amir shook his head.

“You do look fantastic.”

“That’s what _she_ said. C’mon! Let’s get on with this. I was promised a steak after all these I Do’s.”

“And cake! Don’t forget the cake! Dad helped me bake it” Priscilla exclaimed, still glugging away at her punch and walking closer to Catherine to get a good look at her. Amir was caught off guard. He didn’t expect _that_. Of all times for her to do it…Priscilla had never called Amir dad. Shar had never prompted her to do it. Truthfully, it probably just slipped out but to Amir, it meant more than she would ever know. Seteth could see tears in the corners of Amir’s eyes. He gave his newfound Almyran friend a pat on the back.

“Everything changes when you become dad.” Amir nodded at Seteth’s words. As much as he wanted savor this moment, there wasn’t time. Shamir was still fighting Claude.

“Close the door!” she demanded of Claude. He’d been trying to get her out of the bathroom for ten minutes. Shamir sighed and threw her head back. Claude had never seen her like this…nervous.

“You’re not backing out on your woman, are you?” he asked.

“What!? No! I love Catherine! I just…this is forever. What if I can’t be a good partner to her forever? What if…one day Catherine wakes up and realizes that she could have someone else? What if I’m not enough?” Shamir asked honestly.

“Shamir, you found something that people search a lifetime for…a _partner_ who loves you for _you_. A partner who is willing to share her life with you. You changed Catherine and she changed you. Remember the mess you were after Petra? Catherine has _never_ made you question anything, and you’ve never had to change anything about you to be with her. That’s when you know it’s real.” Shamir smiled.

“I know it’s the wrong time to say this but…Byleth is an idiot for not coming back to you from…whereever she went. You’re a good man, Claude. You’re a good man and…she threw you away. Don’t get me wrong you’re a total flirt and too attractive for you own good…but…you’re a good man.” Claude suddenly had a very serious look on his face.

“Okay, first…thank you. That’s…really kind of you, Shamir. You know how…you wanted the truth…on your wedding day?”

“I knew it. You slept with beautiful man in your living room, didn’t you?”

“No, but…Hilda came over the other night and…we… _almost_ slept together. Like it…got pretty close to that. And after you and I have a _lot_ to drink tonight? We _really_ need to talk about this…I uh…I think there’s something there…with us…something I’ve never really noticed.” Claude confessed. Shamir picked up her champagne glass and drank the remainder. Shamir nodded and smiled.

“Really? Hilda? Now _that_ is a wedding gift!” she sat her empty glass behind her and opened her arms to Claude. “C’mere….” She said taking Claude in her arms. “You’re the only man I’ve ever hugged like this, you know that.” She let go of him. “We will _so_ talk about that later. I love you, Claude. Not…you know…in _that_ way. You get it, right?” she asked.

“I get it.” Claude looked at her, cupping Shamir’s face in his hands. “You look fantastic and if I were Catherine, I’d have my way with you.” Shamir laughed.

“Don’t worry, she will and she’ll be thinking of you the whole time.”

“Also, you’re going to hate your wedding gift.” Claude said, moving stray pieces of hair from her face.

“You got us bath salts, didn’t you?” Shamir asked, completely disappointed.

“Worse…just wait.” He said, thinking about the Almyran gourmet spice set he had Sharmayne track down. It was _the_ customary Alryman wedding gift to give…and receive. Perfectly wrapped in a royal purple and gold pashmina for luck and a prosperous marriage, it wouldn’t be a wedding without one. But this wedding today? It wouldn't be a wedding without a penthouse full of outsiders.


	22. Bird Set Free

For the past month, Linhardt had done nothing but study the female body. Granted, his study methods were entirely different than say, Sylvain’s methods. But Linhardt had learned _a lot_ and today was an enormous day. It was a nerve-wracking day and Lysithea’s anxiousness wasn’t helping.

“Remember. Three measurements, yes?” Mercedes reminded him. Linhardt exhaled heavily, nodding his head.

“Yes.” He said, dipping his hands into hot, sterile water.

“And....” Mercedes gave him a reassuring smile before presenting a small amplifying cone to him. “…I’m giving you the first listen.” Lindhart smiled. He couldn’t believe it!

“Mercedes!!” He said, offering his hand to take the cone. He excitedly went into the adjacent room, Lysithea lying there talking away to Lorenz. He looked up to Lindhart, Lysithea turning her head and doing the same. Linhardt sighed again.

“I must say, I’m relieved to see the two of you. I was hoping you wouldn’t make Lysithea go this alone.”

“Please, Linhardt! How crass do you think I am!? I wouldn’t miss it!” He said, flipping his fabulous hair.

“Well, let us not waste any time. Mercedes is in a hurry today, but we are taking all the time we need for this.” Though Lorenz didn’t say it out loud, he was quite impressed by Linhardt’s take-charge attitude. It was a new side of him…a side that wasn’t asleep. He pulled up a chair near Lysithea, reaching a hand toward her abdomen. “You’re showing.” He said, rubbing his hand over the visible bulge underneath Lysithea’s infirmary gown. “Mercedes and I were doing the math. The baby is probably fifteen or sixteen weeks. Now, I want you to lie very still and quiet. You’ll feel slight pressure.” He instructed, Lysithea nodded and reached for Lorenz’s hand. Linhardt bravely went where only one other man had gone before…right between her legs. Except, all he did was lean over, gaining better access to her stomach. He placed his ear to the cone, pressing down on her stomach. Lysithea watched, seeing as Linhardt wasn’t reacting, just listening. He gasped.

“Goddess…” he whispered. “Oh it’s…it’s incredible…Lorenz…Lorenz come listen!” Linhardt couldn’t wipe his enormous, stupid smile from his face. He so wished that Marianne could be here for this moment. Lorenz leaned over Lysithea’s stomach, placing his ear where Linhardt directed. It was a muddled, pulsating sound but it was enough to knock the very breath from Lorenz’s chest.

“I…I can’t believe it. It’s…that’s my baby…” None of it seemed real or entirely believable to Lorenz until this morning. The heartbeat of _his_ child. Today, in his mind, he _really_ became a father. Lorenz pulled his ear away shifting his glassy eyes to Lysithea. “How I wish you could hear it. Our baby is _real.”_ His tears were sincere and his smile radiated joy.

“Of course, it’s real! Remember all the morning sickness I had for three months!? That wasn’t for fun, Lorenz! I’ve had a job to do and by the way, it’s not finished!” But Lysithea wasn’t done. Lorenz wanted to savor this moment, but she was on a roll. “My breasts don’t even fit in half my dresses anymore! And it’s not fair! You get to hear the heartbeat and I’m stuck laying here in the same position I conceived this baby in!” Lysithea let her body slump in defeat. Linhardt smiled and pushed himself to her side

“It’s not all a disappointment, Lysithea. You’ll get to feel your baby kick…Lorenz won’t get to experience that!” Linhardt was right. Lysithea smiled in victory. She got her edge back.

“That’s right! I _will_ get to feel the baby kick first!” Lysithea rolled her eyes.

“You need to get yourself together!”

“I’m sorry…” Lorenz said, flipping his hair again…oh to be _that_ fabulous. “It’s just…” Lorenz began to tear up again. “I’m sorry…” he repeated.

Int the adjacent room, Mercedes was making additional notes into Lysithea’s file before sitting it aside. She looked up to the clock, audibly gasping. Mercedes was running out of time. With Linhardt occupied, she opened up a cabinet and pulled a small bottle from the shelf. Mercedes measured out the liquid contents into a syringe before giving it a tap to ensure air did not enter into the measure. To be certain, she quickly locked the door before proceeding. Leaning against the cabinet and hiking her dress up around her hip, she examined the syringe once against before stabbing it into her hip. She watched the contents disappear, glancing at the clock again once it was empty. She let her dress fall at her ankles, smoothing it down against her hip. _This_ would be Linhardt’s next lesson…but not today.

* * *

Edelgard and Hubert were locked in a staring match. “Sign it.” She demanded, shoving the document toward him.

“You can’t be serious about this.” He said.

“Except that I am.” Edelgard insisted. “What’s the big deal? Sign it. We set a date. End of story. Besides, you like it…our current arrangement I mean.” Edelgard was receiving intense pressure from the Empire to set a date for her wedding. If she’d heard it once, she’d heard it fifty times. _Set. A. Date._

“I like it _now_. I never said I wanted it _forever_.”

“Most men would jump at the chance to fuck two women in their marriage. What’s your problem?” Edelgard pressed.

“My _problem!?_ My problem is that you want another woman in on _our_ marriage! My problem is that a marriage with you and I…husband and wife…isn’t enough for you. My problem is that you cannot keep any of the promises you made to Petra.” Edelgard rolled her eyes.

“I am the Empire’s greatest asset. I can promise anything to anyone.”

“Except that you can’t. El, the _Empire_ can’t afford to fulfill half of things you promised Petra. You need money and frankly, the Empire is quickly going broke.” Hubert paused, crossing his arms before him, his eyes set on Edelgard’s. “I think I need not say where you _could_ get the money you needed…on loan of course.”

“How dare you! Over my rotting corpse would I ever ask for a loan from fucking _Faerghus!_ I’m insulted, Hubert! I’m….uuuugggghhh! _Sign. It_!” Hubert took the paper, reading the absurd parameters once again.

“You know the Empire would never allow this if they knew that your ‘subordinate’ was in fact a Brigidian war prisoner that you regularly fuck.”

“The _Empire_ won’t know, now will they? _You_ are going to be my husband! I will become _Lady_ _Edelgard von Vestra_. It has a beautiful ring to it, does it not? Do you know how badly it looks? The fact that you and I haven’t set a date? Hubert, every man steps out of their marriage. I’m just wrapping it up in a pretty little contract and _giving it to you_. You should be more grateful for me. In fact, you should be…”

“ _You_ should be grateful for me! I’ve wanted to set a date for months, El! I’ve _begged_ you to set a date. I’ve begged you to make plans for _us!_ Since you were sixteen, Edelgard, I have done nothing but watch over you, protect you, ensure your every need was met! Your father…”

“My father NOTHING! Just because my father chose _you_ doesn’t mean that you get to make _my_ decisions.”

“A marriage is _two_ people making decisions.” He reminded her.

“Well…this marriage is _three_.” She insisted. Hubert wasn’t emotional about anything. But this? This hurt. He’d waited for years to call himself Edelgard’s husband. He thought Edelgard had softened, that he was finally getting the closeness to her that he so desperately sought. He worried now, that the gravest mistake he’d ever made was allowing Petra into their relationship. For once, he envied Dimitri Blaiddyd. Why couldn’t El have just fucked some other man? Why did she have to want another woman? If she just would have fucked another man, Hubert could have written her off and she would have been a disgrace the Empire. But the thing was, Hubert wouldn’t have done it. Edelgard could drag him over the coals and back and he would _still_ cave to her. He loved her. Goddess…he loved her.

“Edelgard? Do you love me?”

“Now’s not the time for this, Hubert. Just sign the…”

“Answer me.” He insisted.

“I’ll always love you Hubert. I will never _not_ love you! You will always be the man I love in my life…but no matter what you do, no matter how hard you fight me…you will _never_ be the woman I love.” Edelgard shot piercing eyes through Hubert. He sat back in his chair. They were silent. It was sobering. He would _never_ be number one in Edelgard’s life. Somewhere, deep inside him, he wanted to scream at her. He wanted to scream his frustrations at the top of his lungs. But he couldn’t. He’d been burying his feelings for longer than he cared to admit…what was one more layer? He took a deep breath, hitching before calming exhaling and shifting his eyes into his lap in defeat.

Edelgard watched, awaiting his next move. Hubert picked up the pen and with a shaky hand, signed the contract. 

* * *

It was as if she were a porcelain doll. Perfect skin. Perfect hair. Expensive clothes. It was evidenced by her perfectly manicured hands that she’d never done a stitch of work outside. She was immaculate…so immaculate in fact, that Felix feared if he even breathed on her, it would soil her flawless form.

“Have you ever left Fhirdiad?” Felix asked.

“No, sir.” She softly and politely answered. Felix looked to Catherine and then Dedue.

“Where did you attend school?”

“Fhirdiad Preparatory School for Girls. After that, The Fhirdiad Academy of Arts.” She answered. Felix looked to Catherine once again.

“Colletta…can I…call you Colletta? How old are you?”

“I just turned eighteen, ma’am.” She answered.

It had been a painful hour. Colletta McCade-Winslow had a fine education, all the graces Dedue described her having…and she was dreadfully uninteresting. In fact, she was downright _boring_. She spoke only when spoken to, didn’t elaborate on any question asked of her, and had an unwavering pleasant smile on her faced that borderlined on creepy. Dedue thought she was fantastic, and he couldn’t wait for Felix and Catherine to meet her. Dedue was beginning to hit his limit with Dimitri and he couldn’t pinpoint it. His depressive symptoms had improved…a lot. Dimitri was doing surprisingly well but he was starting to ask a lot of questions. These questions Dedue didn’t like. Questions such as ‘Dedue, will you ask Byleth to come to the Monastery’, ‘Dedue, I need to talk to Byleth, why haven’t you asked her to come see me?’ ‘Dedue, does Byleth not wish to see me?’ Dedue didn’t realize Byleth was actually missing nor did he know that she was in fact, _not_ sleeping with Claude. And Dimitri was living in some kind of world in his head where he had seemingly _forgotten_ that his beloved had traded him in for a more stable model. Maybe Dimitri was more skewed with reality than Dedue thought.

Anytime Dimitri would hit Dedue with these questions, he would either dodge the subject or make up excuses that were not real. When Dimitri learned of Colletta’s presence, it was hard to know how he would react. It was certain; however, the reaction wouldn’t be a good one.

“You’re…you’re _eighteen_ years old!?” Catherine couldn’t control her obviously surprised reaction. Colletta nodded. Pleasantly of course. And then…the awkward silence as Felix exchanged baffled glances with Catherine. Dedue was in a state of pure bliss. He didn’t seem to notice the silence and didn’t seem the care that he had practically brought a barely legal adult to meet Dimitri!

“C-Colletta, why don’t you join Annette in the courtyard and, um…I’ll…come get you when his Highness is available.” Colletta smiled and gave Dedue a nod. Judging by the way Dedue blushed, he was pleased with her cordial nature. “I’ll, show you way.” He said, offering his hand to her.

“It was my pleasure to meet you Lady Catherine, Lord Felix.” She said with a courtesy.

“ _Lady_ Catherine?” Catherine lipped the words to Felix as Colletta turned around. Felix would have reacted, but he was too busy trying to digest the fact that Dedue lead Colletta with that kind of laugher you only heard when…actually, he never once heard Dedue laugh like this. It was evident that Colletta McCade-Winslow had Dedue in a chokehold. Perhaps the truth of it was that Dedue had the crush on Colletta and by serving her up to Dimitri on a silver platter was his way of living vicariously.

“Seteth’s paperweight is more interesting than that girl.” Catherine remarked after the two had left.

“She’s eighteen, Catherine!” Felix said, beginning to freak out.

“When you asked about her interests she shrugged. She _shrugged_ , Felix!”

“She’s eighteen, Catherine!” 

“She’s never held a weapon! Never held a tool! You know she’s never sucked a di…”

“Catherine! _SHE_ is eighteen!”

“You heard nothing past that when she announced it, did you?”

“No! Listen, Dimitri is going to lose his shit when Dedue shoves her on him today. Just…be prepared because you haven’t seen batshit crazy yet.” Felix shut up quickly because Dedue had returned, a stupid smile still slapped across his face. He closed the door behind him.

“Isn’t she great!?” He should have figured out by the looks he was getting that this whole experience was like the time Ashe tried explaining something: painful and lengthy

“Are we being honest?” Catherine asked.

“Of course!” Dedue said, still excited.

“She’s about as great as a loaf of wet bread.” Catherine just _had_ to go and break Dedue’s heart.

“You _can’t_ introduce her to Dimitri, Dedue. Are you insane?” Felix asked.

“What!? What’s wrong with you two? She’s perfect! Did you not observe how exquisite she is?”

“That’s…kind of the problem. She couldn’t hold a conversation. She’s never left Fhirdiad. She’s…” Catherine looked to Felix.

“Eighteen!” he said passionately.

“Her age isn’t a big deal. What’s seven years?” Dedue defended her.

“You honestly think she’s prepared to handle the duties of _Queen_ to Faerghus? A woman who has never left Fhirdiad… _Queen_ of Faerghus. You _really_ believe she can handle Dimitri?”

Dedue shook his head. “Felix, she doesn’t need to know… _everything_. She simply needs to like His Highness and he needs to…”

“What the _fuck_ Dedue!? Dimitri has a history of being very _depressed_. There is an extensive medical record to back it up and Mercedes isn’t afraid to pull it. You can’t just gloss over that!” Felix insisted. Dedue was becoming defensive.

“Dimitri needs a woman who will accept and love him for who he is. He doesn’t need someone who only accepts him at his best.”

“Well, yeah, but that woman deserves to know the man she’s with. I agree with Felix, you can’t hide something like that. It’s not like hiding a bad habit…this is…big, Dedue.” Catherine said. He couldn’t believe it! Colletta was _perfect._ How could Felix or Catherine act like this!?

“There’s _nothing_ wrong with His Highness. He is ideal for Colletta.” Dedue said firmly.

“C’mon, Dedue. Even you know that simply isn’t true. Need I remind you that not so long ago you had to count Dimitri’s pills? Have you even considered what Dimitri’s reaction is going to be when you just…up and introduce her?” Felix’s comments were met with silence. The truth was, Dedue hadn’t thought that far ahead. He only had eyes for Colletta and no one else.

“Admit it, Dedue. Trying to introduce her to Dimitri is a bad choice. She’s…”

“She’s not a fucking whore!!” Dedue angrily stated. No one said anything as Dedue frowned. “She’s not a whore…” he repeated softly. It was harsh. Not even Catherine or Felix would call Byleth a whore…not out loud, anyway.

“Dedue…you can’t pick a girl for Dimitri based exclusively on _that_.”

“His Highness will love her, just wait.” Dedue said.

“Love what?” a voice called from the doorway. Catherine shot nervous eyes to Dimitri, not expecting to see him appear. Dedue stood, just as startled.

“Your Highness!” he asked, semi-nervously.

“I’ve been looking for you to see if you would join me in the dining hall.” Dimitri half-asked, half-stated. Dedue smiled.

“I would take great pleasure in that. But, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. Perhaps, the three of us could dine together.”

Felix looked at Catherine, eyed wide. This was about turn into an explosion you couldn’t turn away from. Dedue’s statement peaked Dimitri’s curiosity. “Your Highness, I’ve a fine woman whom I’d like to meet your acquaintance. The loveliest, Colletta McCade-Winslow. I…mentioned her once. She’s here…now.” Felix laid heavy eyes on Catherine. Underneath the table, Catherine reached for Felix’s hand…things were going to escalate judging by the horrified look in Dimitri’s eyes.

“What?” Dimitri asked, feeling as if this were the ultimate betrayal.

“Colletta. She’s…”

“I have asked you…at least a dozen times about Byleth. I’ve…I’ve wanted you to bring her to me. I need to…”

“Yes, yes I realize this and I…”

“I ask for Byleth…and you…you have the _nerve_ to…bring some… _woman_ in her place!?” Dimitri’s hand twitched.

“Your Highness, I understand your frustration but Colletta is…”

“Colletta, NOTHING!” Dimitri shouted. Catherine motioned Felix to prepare to restrain Dimitri if necessary.

“She…she made a _long_ trip to…”

“How could you…HOW COULD YOU DO THIS!” Dimitri shouted at his friend, about to plant his fist into Dedue’s face. Fortunately, Felix’s reflexes were faster, quickly lunging toward Dimitri and throwing him into the wall.

“It’s okay…it’s okay…” Felix nervously tried to settle Dimitri. Catherine backed him up, standing at behind Dimitri.

“Your Highness…” Dedue began, hurt by Dimitri’s actions.

“I TOLD YOU WHAT I WANTED! WHAT I NEEDED!” Dimitri yelled, resisting against Felix. Dedue was cracking.

“You don’t know what’s good for you…”

“I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT’S GOOD FOR ME! AND IT’S THE WOMAN YOU FORCED ME TO BANISH! YOU DID THIS! YOU DID THIS DEDUE! YOU MADE ME DO IT!”

“Dimitri! You don’t need _her_!!” Dedue said.

“BUT I LOVE HER!!” The room went silent. Dimitri wasn’t supposed to love _her_ anymore. Byleth’s memory was supposed to have died the minute she left monastery property. However, the only person who took the time to allow Dimitri to talk about Byleth was the Church counselor. Dedue, his best friend, nor anyone else in the House allowed him to talk about or even grieve Byleth properly. He’d done all he could to convince himself that he no longer had feelings for Byleth, but they never truly went away. They were buried underneath a layer a medication. Was he devastated by her actions, of course, Was he angry, of course. But counseling had taught him that he _never_ stopped loving her. And with these words, Dedue officially lost his patience.

“She’s a whore, Dimitri!!”

“Wha…what did you just say?” Dimitri asked, feeling a combination of pain and rage boil inside him. Felix moved closer to Dimitri but it didn’t matter. Felix was much too small to hold Dimitri back. Dimitri snapped Felix’s grip like a toothpick and launched into Dedue.

“No! No! No! No!” Catherine repeated, throwing herself on Dimitri and pinning him to the floor before he could wail on Dedue anymore than the one throw. Felix motioned Dedue quickly to the door, pulling him aside in the event Dimitri broke free of her intense grasp. She nodded her head toward the hall as Dimitri’s anger turned to sloppy tears.

“You okay?” Felix asked, taking Dedue’s arms and leading him away.

“I’m fine. It’ll be fine.” Dedue said, holding his nose.

“That’s going to bruise. I’ll walk to the infirmary with you.” Felix said.

“No. No let’s not. It’s fine, Felix, but thank you. I shouldn’t have said it. I shouldn’t have said it but…it’s just…it’s _true._ What she did…that…” Dedue sighed. “I deserved it. I’m only trying to protect His Highness. I only want what’s best for him.” Dedue defended.

“I know you do. I had no idea he still loved her. What’s he talking about? You made him do it?” Dedue didn’t immediately respond. “Dedue?” Felix repeated.

“The whole…relinquishing of the House…the formal complaint…that _all_ of us signed. Banishing Byleth from the Monastery…that…wasn’t exactly Dimitri’s idea.”

“What do you mean? He delivered it to her.”

“I convinced him to do it. He was so upset. He was so apologetic. He was a mess. It made me so angry…him apologizing for something that wasn’t even his fault! _She_ was the one who fucked around. Not him! I drafted the complaint. I arranged the banishment. I told Dimitri to sign it. I told him to sign it and be done with…that _bitch_. It was my idea, Felix. It wasn’t his. I’m the reason…she’s not here. I am the reason this happened.” He explained, pointing to his nose.

Felix wasn’t sure how to respond. He didn’t disagree with what Dedue did, but it also felt like a certain degree of manipulation was involved…the same way sleezy Lords like Arundel manipulated people around him in their vulnerable states. Dimitri signed something he had no intention of signing had he been thinking clearly.

“You’re not wrong, Dedue.”

“But I’m not right. I didn’t even give Dimitri a choice. I was so… _mad at her._ I told him how he felt, I told him what to do. He was too damn depressed to process any of it. I deserved it. I deserved that fist. Colletta was my solution to protecting His Highness…to keep _her_ away from him. I swear to the Goddess, Felix. If I ever come face to face with Claude von Riegan again, I may strangle him with my bare hands. That’s why…that’s why I asked you to watch him. I knew my rage would get the best of me. You’re far more level-headed than I.”

“I’m flattered. I hate the guy too. But…it’s been four months, Dedue. You have to let it go. You can’t protect Dimitri from everything. He’s...not ready to move on.” The two sat in silence.

“I feel like…I feel like I owe him.” Dedue said. “Should I do it?”

“Do what?”

“Bring Byleth…to Dimitri…” The comment was off-putting.

“You can’t do that, Dedue.” Felix lowered his voice. “She’s fucking a dirty Almyran. The choice to bring her to Dimitri isn’t yours.” They were silent again.

* * *

“MMRRWWWW!”

“Stop!”

“MMMMRRRRWWW!”

“Stop!”

“MMMRRRWWW!”

“STOP! Seteth, I’m just not getting the…”

“MMRRRRRRWWWWWWWWW!” Shamir’s sentence was abruptly halted by the wyvern overtaking the desk.

“Hey! Hey! No! Get…down! GET DOWN! This is…you spilt the drink!!” The wyvern also nearly broke the desk, bowing it in the middle. It was apparent that Shamir’s beverage was far more concerning.

“I attempted to tell you she wasn’t feeling at herself.” Seteth said, not looking up from the papers he was grading. Shamir sighed.

“ _WHAT!?_ What do you want!?” she angrily asked the poor, sweet, bronze wyvern. It wasn’t like Shamir could blame her for feeling puny, awkwardly clambering her near 400-pound body on the desk, making it droop in the middle only to get Shamir’s attention. Love her heart.

“Mmrrww…” she chirped abruptly. Fine. She had Shamir’s attention, laying her head at Shamir’s chest.

“Fine! Fine YOU win! What’s wrong?” she said, sitting down and motioning the wyvern’s head into her lap, only to hear her pitifully whimper and purr. As she surrendered to the wyvern’s demands, she watched Seteth closely. He looked…different. He acted different…relaxed… _very_ relaxed. She knew that body language. Sylvain _mastered_ that look. There was only one explanation…

“You got laid.” She said accusingly. That caused him to stop making comments on the student papers with the dreaded red pen.

“ _Excuse me_?” He asked, unable to hide his reaction.

“You. Got. Laid.” Seteth couldn’t believe what he was hearing! How absurd! Why would she think such a thing!? Shamir continued to shoot accusatory eyes at him.

“I beg your pardon? You speak words of heresy.”

“Oooooh, you _really_ got laid?” Shamir’s grin was enormous as she continued to pet the wyvern.

“Let me guess…She likes it rough, doesn’t she?”

“I have nothing to discuss with you.” Seteth said, not looking up from the papers before him.

“Did you use any protection, or can you pull out like a beast? I bet you can. I bet you perfected that after Flayn was born.”

“Shamir…the wyvern…”

“Seteth…the sex…” That’s it. There went the pen, hitting the desk in a clunk. Shit just got real. When the pen goes down…all bets are off.

“Why? Why do you think I…to use _your_ words… _go laid_ …?”

“Because! _You_ can’t wipe that dumb ass smile off your face. You came in _late_ today and you _never_ come in late. That is…unless you _came_ in…”

“Don’t! Don’t...say it…don’t…” Seteth spat at her. Shamir smiled, waiting, not taking her eyes off Seteth and still petting that sweet wyvern. It was fine, she could keep this up _all_ afternoon. She didn’t have anywhere to be.

“Was this your first time in like, ten years? I bet you lasted ten seconds.” Shamir egged on, her voice just deadpan enough to get under Seteth’s skin. He pretended to read the next student essay, not giving Shamir the satisfaction of an answer. “Oh! Let me guess, gentleman in the street, freak in the shee….” Shamir was interrupted by Seteth inhaling sharply and clenching the edge of his desk. Yes! Yessss! Shamir 1. Seteth 0.

“We…weren’t…going to…” was all he said. Shamir waited knowing good and well Seteth couldn’t leave this sentence hanging forever. “…but…she said…I…had what she needs…” Shamir was _delighted._

“Ooooh, you have what she needs, huh? How many inches does she need?”

“SHAMIR!” Seteth’s shout startled the wyvern

“What!? Claude and I discuss this stuff all the time!” Seteth rolled his eyes. Oh, great…

“I don’t doubt that. I’m surprised you don’t encourage him to issue a monthly newsletter.”

“I could make my wife _very_ happy if you tell me _in detail_ what happened.” Shamir coerced. Seteth sighed, hearing the wyvern whine and attempt to roll over, tucking her feet against her body.

“Just the way I like it. We must have similar tastes.” He said, stately. Shamir blinked repeatedly.

“That’s it? That’s all you’re giving me? I’ll tell you what I did on my wedding night if you tell me what _you_ did on…”

“Please, I heard _everything_ you did on your wedding night! If you recall, I slept on the couch! And might I add, what you need is some good, old-fashioned scripture.”

“And what _you_ need some more of that good old-fashioned…”

“DON’T…SAY IT…” Seteth hissed, sticking a finger into Shamir’s face. “Also, the wyvern is drooling in your lap. I suggest you take her to the enclosure and give her some sugar water to settle her.

“Oh, that’s wyvern drool? Funny, I thought it was me getting all hot and bothered for _you_ and your graphic sexual encounter.” Shamir commented, expressionless. “I’ll take her. Oh, and if anyone asks about the desk…” Shamir shook her head. “…yeah I don’t know what to say to that.” Shamir coaxed the wyvern into rolling up to her feet to lead her to the enclosure.

“Shamir…” Seteth called as she led the wyvern to the door. She held it open and watched the wyvern sloth her way out. “If you really must know…it was fantastic. I never thought I could sleep with another woman who wasn’t my wife. She was so understanding. So compassionate. So… _wow._ ” Shamir grinned bigger than she originally intended.

“I’m happy for you. It’s time. You’ve been alone for much too long.” It was true. Shamir could be sincere when she wanted to be. Seteth smiled.

“So, me…her…dinner at your place. It’s long past time you and Catherine met her.” He said. Shamir was touched by his gesture.

“Yes! Yes of course! Catherine and I would love to meet her! And also, get her drunk and ask her graphic questions. Like, what does the holiest man at the monastery say when he’s about to…”

“SHAMIR!” Seteth reprimanded her.

“Alright! Alright! I’m going to the enclosure…”

* * *

“Hmm…” Lorenz questioned, shaking his head in displeasure. “That’s not the right one.” He said, taking a sip of his tea. Ferdinand shook his head in agreement.

“Ugh…it’s the horrible tweed isn’t it? A fabric that suits no one. Not even me!” He unbuttoned the waistcoat and tossed it aside, followed by the vest, of which he was also displeased.

“I must say, Ferdinand, judging by the way things look around here you don’t seem to be prepared for your own…”

“ _Ssssshhhhhh!”_ He intently whispered, buttoning the olive-green vest. “Someone may hear you!”

“I hardly think that true, but I respect your wishes. How long before you leave?” Lorenz asked, sitting his teacup on the only available space on the desk. Ferdinand huffed. The camel colored waistcoat was handsome…on someone who wasn’t a redhead that is.

“I’ll be taking that since it doesn’t work for you.” Lorenz said. “I brought something to celebrate the occasion.” Lorenz said, reaching into the bag at his feet. “Ta dah!” he said, displaying a bottle of wine.

“What a kind gift, Lorenz! However, I must stick with the tea. I can’t be buzzed tonight. I want to arrive impeccable and flawless!”

“Ferdinand, please! You are _always_ impeccable and flawless!”

“You’re too complimentary, Lorenz.”

A passerby would swear that two underclass girls were attempting to choose their date night outfits. Ferdinand and Lorenz missed a great opportunity to be a gay couple. They would be the envy of all the other couples. If Ferdinand was the suit that _never_ went out of style, Lorenz was the flashy, attention-grabbing, handbag. Ugh, other people would talk about the amazing parties they threw with dinner served on fine, porcelain china and the collection of lead crystal brandy glasses. Their friends would pine over all of the stories that began with “When we were on holiday at the coast…” or “At the last wine tasting, where we met a ravishing couple from the north…” Those two would be _the_ couple everyone else wished to be. Instead, Lorenz said with a chuckle,

“I’ve certainly never known you to be less than the Noble Standard when buzzed.”

“You weren’t at Felix’s engagement party. I _slept_ in the same bed as Mercedes! She and I went to church _drunk!”_ Ferdinand took a long drink of tea. “Mercedes did things with her mouth that…if I repeated out loud would have us both burning in sin for eternity! We were utter disappointments to the Goddess that weekend. I regret nothing.” Ferdinand sighed and awaited Lorenz’s approval or disapproval.

“That’s awful, Ferdinand…the waistcoat…not the obvious blow job you’re referencing. Marigold velvet simply doesn’t work for you.” Lorenz picked up his cup once again. “I do deeply admire your overall restraint. Where I have failed nobility, you keep it virtuous and that is precisely why we are friends!” Lorenz directed his eyes to the floor, his demeanor changing. “I heard my baby’s heartbeat today.” He said, his emotion getting the best of him as it had done earlier in the day. Ferdinand stopped mid-button.

“What!? Lorenz! You let me ramble on when…” Ferdinand had to take a seat, pulling the desk chair across from Lorenz. “Please, tell me. What was that like?” Lorenz sniffed.

“The most…terrifying and…incredible moment of my life.” He confessed.

“I…truly can’t imagine.” Lorenz shook his head.

“I haven’t told my father. He’ll…make me ensure the child is given to a stranger. He’ll dub it a bastard and…oh Goddess…” He regained his, very noble. composure. “Hearing the heartbeat today. That… _did something_ to me, Ferdinand!”

“Of course, it did! It’s your _child_!”

“You should have seen Lysithea. She was so disappointed that she couldn’t hear it too. It’s just…so much. I fear what could happen should my father will never accept my child.” Lorenz confided.

“Lorenz, please know that you can ask me to defend your child’s honor to him should the need arise. And furthermore, if you, Lysithea and your child need a place to stay once he or she arrives…well, you have that too.” Lorenz was honored.

“Ferdinand, you are a true friend!” He smiled, feeling…relief? Acceptance? He smiled. “I would toast you had we opened the wine.” Ferdinand laughed.

“I appreciate the gesture.” He said, raising from the chair to finish buttoning what he’d started. He sighed and threw his arms to his sides. “What about this?”

“Now I’m looking at a _real_ noble!” Lorenz praised, admiring the beautiful emerald green with its gold accents. Ferdinand gave his friend an accomplished smile.

“So, this is the one?” Ferdinand asked, pulling out the matching pieces from the chifforobe.

“It is. I like it very much. Very regal! Very classy. Very fuck me.” Lorenz added. Ferdinand found it shocking evidenced by the look he was giving Lorenz.

“I’m sorry! I had to. You know I never say fuck. I suppose I should leave this with you, since we won’t be popping the cork this evening.” Lorenz said, leaving the bottle of wine on the floor. He reached into his bag and revealed something else. “Oh, and here’s two for the road and…this!” he said, offering up two bottles of champagne, and an exquisite bottle of cognac. Lorenz couldn’t hide his smile. Promise me you’ll share _all_ the details with me upon your return.” Ferdinand turned pink.

“Why _ever_ would you think I’ll have details to share?”

“You’re wearing a come fuck me waistcoat and I’m gifting you four bottles of alcohol, Ferdinand! There _will_ be details! Oh! I almost forgot…” he handed over an envelope. “Signed and ready to go.”

* * *

For the first time in Claude’s presence Hilda was nervous. “Today is for you.” he said, the cold December air tearing through the landscape. Hilda shivered.

“What do you mean it’s for me?” she asked preparing a torch.

“You’ve been doing my dirty work for so long. I’ve never said thank you. You are a huge reason this is even happening today…I’ve never said thank you for anything. Not…for what you’ve done, not for all the deals you’ve made with Sreng. And there’s more… I had no idea your relationship with your now ex-fiancé was caused you so much pain. I never once asked you about it. I never once was there for you and you’ve… _always_ been around for me. You’ve had to do _everything_ by yourself and I’m sorry…and I regret it. That’s why…I…really want today to be all about you.” Claude tied the brilliantly patterned silk around his head before attaching the quiver to his back. Hilda didn’t know how to answer because honestly, she wanted to tear all that beautiful silken Almyran garb from him and have her way right here on the cold, barren earth.

“I…never expected a thank you. I’ve never thought any less of you for it.” Hilda said instead, soaking the end of the torch in creosote. Claude was prepared to say something but was interrupted by Amir’s appearance.

“Are we ready? I think we’re ready. It looks like we’re ready. Are we ready?” Amir anxiously stammered. If today were a contest for who could wear traditional Almyran silk better, it would be a tie.

“We’re ready. Where’s Shar? Priscilla?” Claude questioned.

“They are watching from the neighboring hillside at a safe distance.” Months of work, planning, vision and manual labor were about to pay off. Fódlan’s Throat would be blown to bits. Claude’s wyvern, decked out in her finest Almyan ceremonial gear, was ready. She was continually pacing and clawing at the earth below her talons, a telltale sign of a restless wyvern. Three miles. A total of three _thousand_ carefully rigged fuses, three _hundred_ detonation points, _thirty_ fuel sources. The idea was to create a chain reaction. Ignite the fuel sources and watch the fuses explode, one by one, until they reached the detonation points. Once the detonation points were lit, the _really_ big explosions would turn the earth to rubble. None of this would have been remotely possible had it not been for Amir’s genius vision or Hilda’s negotiating ability. Claude owed his friends more today, than ever.

“Skies are clear, but the winds are variable. It should be okay as long as we soar with the currents, not against them.” Amir cautioned. Claude nodded. “Hilda, are you sure you can light the torch mid-air?”

“Who me? Of course, I can!” she said, more than ready to hop on Claude…NO Claude’s _wyvern_ and get this started. Claude anxiously squeezed Hilda’s shoulders. There was clearly a lot he needed to say that he wasn’t saying.

“Let’s go…” Claude gave her a pat and the three readied themselves on the wyvern. Arrows, with tips soaked in creosote, spare ignition fuel and lastly, the torch, which Amir hoped, once lit, would be hot enough to withstand the occasional wind. The order was Claude in the saddle, Amir to his right and Hilda in the front, so she could help Claude maneuver the arrows. Once the command was given, the wyvern let out a mighty shriek and the three began to ascend. They would begin at the Almyran border. Hilda shivered, trying to steady her hand, creosote dripping onto her knuckles. Claude snuck his free arm around her as they encountered the first wind gust.

“Damn it! This will never work if we have that to contend with!” Amir observed, holding on to the saddle with one hand and Claude with the other.

“We’ll be fine when we turn around. Are you watching all the connections below?” Claude asked.

“I am.” The trio grew quiet as the wyvern rode the gusts. Hilda relaxed into Claude, knowing that if she didn’t relax, he certainly wouldn’t. Flying the three miles to the border wasn’t the concern…accuracy with the arrows was because Claude had one chance…one ignition point…to get it right. The wyvern began to coo and squawk as they got closer to Almyra. It was as if she knew and judging by the way she bobbed her head and carried on…she probably did. Claude tightened an arm around Hilda. She placed her free hand reassuringly over his not expecting his fingers to dance over hers until interlaced. There it was: Almyra. From up here, you could almost see to the ocean. Claude squeezed Hilda’s hand tighter. It had been years since he’d been home and now, it was in clear view. Claude felt a hand on his shoulder.

“For Almyra…Khalid.” Khalid. There was a name Claude hadn’t heard in years. This explosion meant that, should he choose it, Claude could be Khalid again. This wall that separated Almyra from Fódlan forced him into an alias and Amir wanted alias’ to be lost to the past. Claude never expected to get emotional upon seeing Almyra…upon hearing his birthname…but the tears in his eyes as he looked over his shoulder to Amir spoke volumes. And so they made the turn, the wyvern gliding until she was facing away from the border. Hilda shook.

“You ready?” Hilda asked, displaying the book of matches in her hand. Once lit, the torch would go up in a ball of fire, Claude would then light his arrow tips, wrapped and soaked in creosote, before firing them into the detonation points. Hilda could feel Claude’s chest heave against her back.

“Ready…” he choked out, encouraging the wyvern to hold steady. With a hand on her shoulder, Claude coaxed Hilda slowly to her knees at the wyvern’s neck. Amir’s job? Steady Claude as he stood in the saddle. Claude’s nervous, glassy eyes pierced Hilda’s; locked in a heated stare. Why? Why did she do this? Why was she risking falling off this wyvern into a live succession of explosives below? Why did she have his back? Why was she _so_ damn devoted to his causes!? Why…did Claude _ever_ think Byleth could….

“Claude!” Amir called, snapping him back to the moment.

“Yeah…yeah, yeah…here we go.” Claude motioned Hilda to light the match, the torch igniting instantly and nearly burning the edge of Claude’s shirt. Once the flame had calmed, Claude drew his arrow from the quiver, touched it to the flames and took aim. In one motion, he let it loose, hoping the end burned hot enough to make it to the detonation point. Immediately, he guided the wyvern up into the sky, anticipating an explosion.

And then…the delay. First, the fireball followed by a detonation so loud that all them, including the wyvern would have gone deaf had they been flying any lower. It was spectacular, awe-inspiring and more intense than even Amir had planned…and it was only the first ignition. They would have to repeat this _multiple_ times. Rock, rubble, dust, debris…it was sent hurling, rebounding against itself below.

“Did you see it!? Did you see that!?” Claude couldn’t believe his eyes. Amir had done it…engineered the perfect explosive chain. It wasn’t supposed to be done, blowing a path through a mountain range…but he did it. _They_ did it. With tears streaking his face, Amir hugged Claude to the point they both nearly fell off the back of the wyvern and caught themselves on fire with the torch. He’d never seen Amir this heartfelt. It was only the first half-mile. So much dust was already rising from the explosion that the clear sky was becoming hazy. They would have to hurry so the dust cloud didn’t impede their line of vision. For the first time, the natural barrier that divided Almyra was no more.

Hilda found herself more overwhelmed by this experience than she had anticipated. One crazy, seemingly unattainable idea that Claude dreamed up with her one night over too much Almyran hard cider…executed with absolute precision and accuracy. It moved her so much so that now was the time for taking chances. _Big_ chances. If Claude’s crazy idea worked…maybe hers would too. As they soared toward the next detonation point, she fixed her eyes with Claude’s once again. She didn’t care that Amir was right here to see this. She held the torch to her side and kissed the Almyran crowned prince whose silken garments rubbed up against her. It was hard, nervous, her bottom lip shaking. “I’m sorry…” she said pulling her lips away just as quickly, her shaking breath hitting his face. “I just…I’m so proud of you…and…I love you…” she confessed.


	23. You, My Brown-Eyed Girl

“I’m so hungry I could eat three of these plates.”

“I think you’ve well earned it. Do you want my roll?” Ingrid offered Lysithea.

“Let’s establish something. I’ll eat _anything_ you, and you and you don’t.” She declared, referencing Dorothea, Ingrid and Mercedes.

“You’re halfway through your second trimester! You can eat anything you want from now on!” Mercedes encouraged her.

“Wanna’ know what I’m craving? Gautier cheese gratin…and I hate that!!” Ingrid shook her head.

“It’s the salt. You’re craving the salt. I love Gautier cheese. There’s a dairy farm not far from Sylvain’s parents’ homeplace that makes the stuff daily. I’d say it’s better than sex but…it’s Sylvain so...ya' know.....” Ingrid laughed said handing over her roll.

“Lorenz got up at 1:00 in the morning, went to into the dining hall kitchen, and made me a Gautier cheese sandwich. He _made_ it!”

“I must say, Lysithea, since he learned he was going to be a father, he’s been nothing but lovely company.” Mercedes observed.

“I remember when Lorenz was a dipshit. Of course, I kinda' was too. He and I both have grown up a lot. And speaking of growing…I’m about to pop out of this bra! It keeps digging into my ribs! I’m swear I’m gonna’ stop wearing it! I have to! I’ve gone up almost two cup sizes! I’m… _you!”_ Lysithea said, grabbing her breasts in defeat and eyeing Dorothea. “Not to mention the starved looks the underclass boys give me. Why did you not warn me how much attention _those_ attracted!?” Dorothea laughed.

“Savor it. They’ll get you out of a tough situation one of these days. And, when you’ve just _had it_ with Lorenz? Shove his face in them and he’ll shut up about whatever it is he’s bitching about. It works _every time!”_ Lysithea found Dorothea’s advice amusing. “I’m serious!” Dorothea went on. “One minute the world is ending because the underclassmen didn’t sharpen the blades after training; the next minute, your dress is hitting the floor and your breasts are getting the tongue treatment.” Mercedes laughed, covering her face.

“Hmm…she’s right, Lysithea! Something very similar happened on my wedding night!” Lysithea stopped chewing. Ingrid dropped her fork. Dorothea did the only thing she knew to do…

“I’m sorry…your… _WHAT!?”_

“Oh, Dorothea! Ferdinand felt so awful about not telling you! But we couldn’t say anything about it. The ceremony was done in secret.” She said softly.

“You’re… _married!?_ You got… _married…to Ferdinand!?_ You and Ferdinand…got… _married!?”_ was Ingrid’s reaction. “When!? Where!?”

“Yeah! We did. Two weeks ago! We were married in Ferdinand’s home church and then spent time in the Aegir countryside!” Lysithea, Dorothea and Ingrid simply couldn’t believe. It. And _how_ Mercedes stated it!? As if it were no big deal at all…like a daily agenda…appointment at nine, stop at the market, marry Ferdinand, pick up the mail…

“You’ve been… _married…_ for two weeks…And no one knew!?” Dorothea asked, still wrapping her mind around what she just learned.

“I’m so sorry for not saying anything about it. It’s my fault, really.” Mercedes lowered her voice again. “By marrying Ferdinand, my adoptive father was stripped of my inheritance. I wasn’t about to say anything for fear it would get back to him!” Mercedes was a Martritz by birth and the Martritz’s came from the Empire, not Faerghus where the Bartel’s called home. Her marriage to Ferdinand sealed the deal. The small Martritz fortune was drained, the account closed, and transferred into the Aegir accounts faster than her adoptive father could blink.

“I’m going to regret this question but…what did you do for two weeks?” Ingrid already wished she could take her words back. Oh, Goddess why… _why_ did she feel compelled to ask that!?

“Well, we arrived at Ferdinand’s estate late on a Wednesday night, just to give it a once over. It was the day Lysithea came in for her baby’s heartbeat check, actually! That night, I stayed with his middle sister, Isadora, and he stayed with his eldest, Victoria that night. Thursday, Ferdinand and I met with the priest and received our pre-wedding blessing. Then, we had a wonderful evening with his three sisters and his little nieces and nephews. On Friday, Ferdinand and I were married in the chapel of the most beautiful cathedral I’ve ever seen! Then, on Saturday we worked at the estate _all_ day. There’s just _so_ much to be done! Do you know how expensive custom curtains and area rugs can get? 15,000G! And then there’s the racks in the wine cellar…those need replaced. That will easily cost another 10,000 to do it the right way! And of course, the flue in the chimney of the master suite needs work. The estate is 4000 square feet and it sits on 120 acres so we’re going to have to hire some people to…”

“Mer…Mercedes…Mercedes…wait…time out…” Dorothea interrupted her. “Did you…go from alter to armoire with no stops in between?”

“Yeah! What’s a wedding without the most important thing…cake!”

“15,000G…a wine cellar… are you hearing this shit?” Ingrid mumbled to Lysithea.

“Oh, there was a cake! A wonderful cake of lemon and buttercream.” Mercedes laughed slightly. Ferdinand’s youngest sister, Johanna, cooked us a lovely dinner after our ceremony. On Sunday, we attended our first church service as husband and wife. The priest even led a devotion with us in his chamber after the congregation left. It was just fantastic!” All the information Dorothea, Ingrid and Lysithea was receiving was like being hit repeatedly in the face with fire spells. They didn’t even know Ferdinand _had_ three sisters let alone a 4000 square foot home sitting on 120 acres!!

About Ferdinand’s family. No wonder he was…him. He was lucky he had a mother who made damn certain he turned our okay. Things got messy, and quickly with the Aegir’s. Aside from he and his three legitimate sisters, there were eight other illegitimate half-siblings, all of whom Ferdinand had never met. Duke Aegir was greedy with more than just money…his greed included women. Three half-brothers and five half-sisters by six different mothers. It was no shock Ferdinand had such a strained relationship with his father. He was _anything_ but a role model. But then, there was his mother. The firey, take-no-shit, do it all on her own, redhead. Ferdinand remembered the day well: the day his mother sent a 4000G antique Adrestian vase soaring _through_ the glass of the front door; and along with it, every name she could think of that ended with ‘fucking bastard’.

After that, she did the most scandalous thing: she divorced Duke Aegir…took the children, took the house, took the bank account and made damn certain that Ludwig, the mistresses, and all the illegitimate children were cut off from _any_ of the Aegir money. Unfortunately, those events also meant that Ferdinand became man of the house at the age of eleven. And no son of hers would _ever_ turn out like that good-for-nothing piece of shit fucking bastard, Ludwig! Needless to say, the Aegir estate needed _a lot_ more than custom curtains and area rugs. Extensive home improvement projects was more of a fourth of fifth year marriage project. The newlywed Aegir’s moved a _little_ faster.

On her wedding day, Mercedes was _the_ very definition of a blushing bride, but it wasn’t because of accolade or fawning over her. It was because of the shot she had conveniently stuck into her hip before she left the monastery. She and Ferdinand’s wedding was completely opposite of what Felix and Dorothea’s would be. Lorenz signed the marriage certificate before Ferdinand left the monastery and his oldest sister signed it the day of the wedding. That was it. There were no pre or post-wedding parties. There was no reception, no gifts…just a few very tastefully done portrait photos. Nothing else. They were the smart ones. Two weeks in the Adrestian countryside in the dead of winter. Two weeks to work on the estate that Mercedes and Ferdinand would eventually call home. Two weeks to stay holed up in front of the fire and watch the December snow blanket the land. It was perfect…if you were into that kind of thing.

“Did you…have any…” Dorothea stopped, looking at Ingrid for her approval. But before Ingrid could even _think_ about shutting her down, Mercedes answered.

“Tea? Oh, yes! Ferdinand brought an entire box. We drank all of it.” Mercedes nodded, resuming her lunch.

“Tea. Listen to this. I bet you had so much tea your hips ached.” Lysithea accused. Mercedes laughed.

“Ha! I’m just joking! Yes! There was a lot of sex!” She laughed again. “A lot....” Mercedes sighed, still laughing and quite obviously thinking of something in particular. “There was a lot of wine also. Some days there was a lot of both!” Mercedes added, still maintaining her sweet, innocent smile.

“Dear Goddess…I was _not_ prepared for any of this…” Ingrid mumbled again.

“Snow…snow, Ingrid! I was going to ask about _snow,_ I swear!” Ingrid put her face in her hand while having her ears assaulted.

“Wait…you mentioned some pretty pricey jobs. Is that why you married Ferdinand? For the money? Or was it...for the hair?” Dorothea asked.

“Oh, certainly not. I married him because he’s great in bed.” 

“Nice…” Was Lysithea’s remark, not looking up from her lunch. Dorothea and Ingrid were mortified. Mercedes laughed, delighted with herself. 

“Ha! I’m joking again! I married him because I love him and he’s a good man.” 

“So, he’s not great in bed?” Lysithea just had to know. Mercedes shook her head.

“Are you kidding? He’s _fantastic_! Part of me wishes we would have been virgins on our wedding night but the other part of me is grateful we weren’t because... _wow!_

“Again… _nice_ …” Lysithea remarked.

“I want you to take this fork…and _stab_ me with it.” Ingrid said quietly to Dorothea. She elbowed Ingrid to keep from laughing. Mercedes sighed, contentedly.

“I must get going. Ferdinand and I have a lot of moving to do.”

“Moving?” Lysithea questioned.

“Ladies…we’re leaving the monastery dorms.” Mercedes announced.

“Are you… _moving_ the countryside you just returned from?” Dorothea asked.

“Oh no, of course not. Not until after graduation. We’re moving to the outer loop.” Mercedes chirped.

“The…the _outer loop_!? You mean…like the same outer loop where Catherine lives? Where… _Seteth_ lives!?” Ingrid asked, not believing her ears. The outer loop. It earned its name because it was…the outer-most residential loop outside monastery walls, yet still well within walking distance. Oh, to be in the outer loop…where the square footage was ample, the fresh baked market goods could be purchased all day, and the best stocked wine vendors were only steps away. The _outer loop_. The Church of Seiros owned the property and there were only two ways to get one of the highly coveted cottages…one way was to be Seteth. The other way was to be married. Technically, Dorothea could have slept her way into the outer loop but that wasn’t a talking point anymore.

“I can’t believe it! You’re a _married_ woman!” Lysithea said.

“A married woman with a wine cellar.” Ingrid mumbled.

“Before you leave, pass along to us, your best newlywed wisdom.” Dorothea stated.

“Hmmm…my best wisdom…” she thought a moment.

“You only get _one_ wedding night…wear him out.” Mercedes smiled and gave her friends a finger fluttering wave. Dorothea looked at Ingrid, Ingrid looked at Lysithea, Lysithea looked at the two flabbergasted expressions across from her. She nodded.

“You know…one of these days…one of these days when I’m _not_ pregnant…I _will_ wear him out…Lorenz! Not Ferdinand!”

“I don’t need to wear Sylvain out! Wedding night or not. I’ve been doing that three nights a week for months!” Ingrid said.

“Quality over quantity? I feel that way about sweets.” Lysithea said.

“I admire her. There’s just no way! There is _no way_ I could go ten days without sleeping with Felix. Mercedes went ten months! She deserves to....be married to the fullest.”

“What do you think her reaction was after an obviously very passionate two weeks?” Lysithea asked. Dorothea and Ingrid thought for a moment.

“Her reaction?" Ingrid started. "Oh my! This is great! Thank you so much!” Ingrid said, trying her best not to laugh. They meant it all in jest of course.

* * *

“Your body is amazing.” The comment shocked and embarrassed Marianne.

“WHAT!?” she squeaked. Linhardt was just as embarrassed as she.

“No! No! Not… _you_ …well, your body’s not… _not_ amazing I just…let me….” Linhardt sighed and put his forehead into his hands. “Allow me to try this again…” he looked up from his hands. “A woman’s body…it’s just incredible! It’s marvelous! Far superior to a man’s!” Marianne smiled.

“You like it don’t you? Babies and mothers, I mean.”

“Well, I prefer learning and reading to sleeping for once. I suppose you could say I do like it.” She smiled again.

“I must say, the work we’ve done together has made it easier for me to talk about things I’d otherwise never mention. I’m just…so embarrassed as you know. I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you for making things easier for me. Thank you for giving me a voice.” Linhardt was touched.

“I didn’t _give_ you a voice. I think you’ve always had it, you just had to find it.” And of course, _that_ embarrassed Marianne…again.

“Sometimes I wish I could be more like Dorothea or Ingrid. I admire them for their outspoken personalities. I admire how they’re able to hold their own in a man’s world.” Linhardt shook his head.

“It shouldn’t have to be that way. A woman shouldn’t have to hold her own. She should have as many rights as a man. More, truthfully. She shouldn’t have to take a husband because of her crest. She shouldn’t have to marry to inherit what is rightfully hers. I feel compelled to work to change this.” Hearing Linhardt speak so passionately about this matter stirred Marianne.

“Wow, Linhardt, that’s…do you really believe such radical change is possible? I thought you were interested in your crest studies?”

“I am but, it’s more important to ensure there is a world where your daughter or...my daughter will be afforded equality.”

“I’m impressed. And…you feel this way…because…” Marianne lowered her voice and leaned in, “…because you’ve seen Lysithea’s vagina?” It was possibly the funniest thing Marianne had ever said in her life. Linhardt laughed.

“Well, not…entirely. No. But, it got me thinking…if you women have the power to carry and deliver _children_ , something men cannot do…you have the power to do anything you want.” Marianne was enchanted. Linhardt had only ever been passionate about naps. Hearing him speak with such fervor, boosted her own morale. It also made her realize just how comfortable she was around him. They had spent so many eight, ten- and twelve-hour days together…it was hard _not_ to get comfortable with him. “What?” he finally said.

“Noth…nothing…it’s nothing…” She shook her head, turning pink and covering her face with her palms.

“Tell me!” Linhardt pressed.

“I…” Marianne smiled, her face turning redder and looking away from Linhardt. “I like hearing you speak so enthusiastically about a cause. It’s…nice.” She said.

“You know, equality isn’t the only thing I’m passionate about.”

“Oh, I know. The crest research and all. How’s it going?”

“It’s…not that.” Lindhardt said. The two said nothing for a moment. “It’s…you.” Marianne shot her eyes to Linhardt’s.

“I’m…sorry?” she questioned.

“You’re really quite incredible, Marianne. I wish so much you could see what I see. You’re _really_ smart…smarter than me. Sometimes I just…watch you…working with Mercedes…and…my heart…races. You’re so sweet and beautiful and…” he sighed, relieved to have said it out loud. Marianne’s brown eyes were wide with bewilderment.

“Oh…” was her utterance, not knowing what to say or how to react.

“I’d love spend time with you outside of the infirmary but only if should you wish to do so.”

“We’re…not at the infirmary right now.” She said.

“Yes, but. This is lunch and we’re going _back_ to the infirmary.” Linhardt remarked.

“So, what did you have in mind?” she asked. Alright…it wasn’t a no. Linhardt shrugged.

“Uh…maybe…we could…go horseback riding. I’m sure you show me a thing or two.” Linhardt chuckled. “Don’t worry we…won’t discuss vaginas…or the uterus…” he added quickly. Marianne snickered.

“But what would we talk about?” And that, was the _next_ funniest thing Marianne had said.

“Breasts, of course. Men seem to love that topic.”

“Oh…”Mariane muttered again. Linhardt laughed harder.

“I’m kidding!” he said, seeing as how Marianne had returned to her shell that she so willingly escaped in Linhardt’s presence. She couldn’t hide her enormous grin as she gazed up once again. She nodded her head.

“Okay…yeah…let’s. I’d like that a lot.” Now, it was Linhardt’s turn to be surprised. He hadn’t expected Marianne to actually accept. Damn it. He would have to determine what they could talk about that didn’t involve crests or pregnancy or conception.

* * *

“I need to know what happened.” Dimitri said, picking up his cup of tea. Sylvain wasn’t exactly comfortable, but he wasn’t entirely uncomfortable either.

“Can you…tell me more about that?” he asked. Dimitri sat his cup down, pulling his hair away from his face.

“Byleth. What happened…with the affair?” Sylvain nervously thumbed at the edge of the teacup and shook his head.

“Dimitri…”

“I need to know!” he insisted calmly and firmly. Sylvain shifted around in his chair.

“I…understand, but I don’t know enough about the affair to give you the information you want.”

“Tell me what you do know.” Dimitri pressed on.

“Alright…um…back…last winter…early spring, actually. You weren’t…doing well. You were a mess. Do you…remember how bad you were?” Sylvain asked, honestly. Dimitri shook his head.

“There’s a _lot_ I can’t recall. I know last winter wasn’t good but…I don’t remember, Sylvain! I recall sleeping a lot. I…was I… was _bad?_ ” he asked. Sylvain seemed surprised that Dimitri had little to no memory of just how hard the winter had been.

“You weren’t what I would call good. You lost over twenty pounds, you smelled all the time, you fought Byleth _all_ the time. If she said up, you said down. She put you before The House. She…shit, Dimitri. She loved you so damn much.”

“Loved? She _loved…me?_ So, she doesn’t…love me…anymore?” Sylvain threw his head back, aggravated.

“Okay, see? You can’t ask me questions like that! I don’t know! I don’t _know_ , Dimitri! She…she might be married to Claude! _We,_ The House asked her to step down, relinquish her position, and leave monastery grounds… _permanently!_ I haven’t spoken to Byleth in at least four months. She…she may be living in Almyra by now! I simply don’t know!” Dimitri digested Sylvain’s words. They sat in silence, Sylvain watching Dimitri over his teacup. “You…filed the formal complaint. You remember that, right?”

“I didn’t file it.” Dimitri said looking down to the table.

“Yes, you did.”

“I didn’t file the complaint. I did…but I didn’t. It was Dedue’s idea. He’s…supposed to be my closest aide, Sylvain…but _he_ did it. He took my beloved. He took her away from me and…”

“Dimitri, she slept with another man!” Sylvain reminded him. Dimitri began to choke in his throat.

“Did she stay with him? Are they together?”

“I don’t know!” Sylvain insisted again.

“Do you think she stayed with him.” Dimitri badgered. Sylvain rested his face against his palms.

“I…don’t…know! I have no way of knowing what Byleth has been doing!” Sylvain was frustrated but also deeply empathetic. He was overrun with guilt. He was the third signature on the complaint. He too, felt responsible for making Dimitri’s decisions for him. For influencing a broken man during a broken time.

“Do you think….he’s better for her than me?”

“Oh, Goddess…Dimitri!”

“I’m serious! If you think she’s…happy. If you believe he’s better for her…that he’s everything that I’m not then be a _true_ friend, Sylvain and tell me.” Dimitri was putting an intense amount of pressure on Sylvain. His heart raced. Finally, he said,

“No! No, I don’t think he’s good for her. I think _you’re_ the better man…I think you’re the better man and…I…” Sylvain was hesitant.

“Say it, please.” Dimitri begged.

“I think you’re the better man and I think you deserve a better woman.”

“You’d stay with Ingrid.” Dimitri said softly, through his tears. Sylvain suddenly jumped to the defense.

“No, I wouldn’t.” he snapped.

“Yes, you would.”

“ _No._ I _wouldn’t_.”

“YES, YOU WOULD!” Dimitri said, more upset than anything else. “You would and you know it. You love Ingrid more than anything. You’d walk through fire for her. You’d give your dying breath to Ingrid and you know it! After everything she’s done for you!? She forgave your every sin. Need I remind you of that? And you sit here and tell me you wouldn’t stay with her after _one_ mistake. Don’t kid yourself, Sylvain.”

Sylvain could feel his heart race once again. This time, faster than before. Dimitri was right. It had nothing to do with whether Ingrid would or wouldn’t fuck another man. This was about forgiveness. It was about having a personal savior; someone to right all of your wrongs. Ingrid made Sylvain a better man the same way Byleth made Dimitri a better…Sylvain swallowed heavily and shoved the teacup away.

“You’re right…me of all people should know about making mistakes. What…what do you want me to do?” he asked. Dimitri fixed tired blue eyes on Sylvain.

“Please. Please ask Byleth to come back to the monastery. I’ve so many things to discuss. Even if she says no, please tell me you’ll ask her?” Sylvain nodded his head, feeling things deep inside he was certain he’d never felt before.

“’l won’t let you down this time.” Sylvain said, his voice riddled with fear.

* * *

“The professor wasn’t stupid.” Catherine said.

“Huh? Of course, she’s not stupid. She makes stupid choices…but she’s _not_ stupid. What are you talking about?” Felix asked.

“I…found something. It’s not a journal but it’s…I don’t know…something like lesson plans. She kept… _incredible_ notes. Last year, during the recruitment window, she knew exactly who she wanted and why. Listen to this:

‘I’ve watched Felix train Dorothea Arnault for two months.

The progress she has made on Felix’s account has gone unnoticed by all other mages.

Her strength and speed are significantly greater than that of any other spell caster.

Her willingness to work and attitude are desirable.

She listens to every word Felix says and executes commands diligently.’

Felix smiled, finding Byleth’s words sincere and honest. “Really? She wrote that?”

“Yeah and listen to this.” Catherine turned the page.

‘Ferdinand presents the greatest amount of sophistication

on and off the battlefield.

No other can handle a horse in his manner.

Even the most uncontrollable stallions follow his command without fail.

His innate charisma makes him an ideal candidate for drill leader.

Edelgard greatly underestimates his skill.’

“She’s really observant.” Felix commented. Catherine looked up to him.

‘Sometimes I wish Felix and Petra would train together.

I’m not sure why he’s never asked her to do so.

Petra’s methods are entirely unorthodox.

Felix’s methods are groomed and fluid.

They could lend their skills to one another.’

Felix laughed. “She’s right…I’ve never once asked Petra to train and…I don’t have a good reason.”

“’I’ve always wondered about it also. And you know, I’ve never suggested it to you, but it makes sense.” Catherine turned over a couple pages. “I noticed something. Her writings take a gradual turn. All of her notes are upbeat, positive…analytical, re-capping the days events. But beginning with her September entries, her writings get very personal.

‘Today was hard. Dimitri had a rough morning.

All I could do was think about him saying he wished he hadn’t woken up.

He’s never said that before.

I’ve told Mercedes and she’s going to monitor him closely.

She’s the only one I have right now. I’m sure he’ll get better in the upcoming weeks.

I love him so. I wish I could bear his pain.’

Catherine looked up to Felix again. “This passage is from late October.”

‘I cried a lot today. Mercedes sat with me.

She didn’t once judge. Dimitri hasn’t been well. He has more down days than up days.

He’s beginning to become disengaged with The House. He’s starting to completely lose interest in everything.

My love for him alone, is not enough. Mercedes increased his meds on October 30.’

“Wait. So, she started talking about Dimitri’s condition over a year ago?” Catherine nodded.

“Yeah. And it’s weird to me. No one…Felix…no one has ever seen these lesson plans. Why…why didn’t someone… _any of us…_ why didn’t we find them? It's not like this plan book is a secret!” Catherine almost pleaded. “She didn’t write anything for the month of November or December. Then, the notes start again. She doesn’t talk about The House anymore. All she talks about…well…"

‘I’m becoming an ineffective House leader.

Recruitment is fast approaching and I’m not ready.

I can’t stand Alois’ presence anymore.

He takes nothing seriously or is too hungover to take it seriously.

Dimitri has all but pulled away from The House.

He’s beginning to pull away from me. That, or I’m starting to lose him.

I’m in a very frightening place. I’m starting to lose sleep.

I’m not thinking clearly anymore. I need my dad. I need help.’

“That entry. Felix, that entry changed _everything_. Byleth started screaming for help in January and not _one_ of us noticed.” Catherine said, concerned.

“What are you saying?” Felix asked. Catherine flipped the page.

‘What do I do? Oh Goddess, what should I do!?

Dimitri woke from a night terror yesterday morning at 4:37.

I haven’t been to bed since.

I had to stick him with the big one.

The one Mercedes promised would knock him out almost at contact.

I felt horrible for doing it! The man I love. And what did I do?

Stuck him with the most powerful sedative in the monastery.

As I write this, I have yet to go to bed. It’s been 28 hours.

Dimitri has been asleep in excess of 20 hours. I need help.’

The passage caught Felix by surprise. There wasn’t an exact date, but February was visible in the corner. They said nothing.

“Read on…” Felix requested. Catherine took a deep breath.

‘I’ve been having conversations with Claude lately.

It’s the most I’ve smiled and most relief I’ve had in months.

I don’t mean to unload on him, but he listens.

He’s what I’ve been looking for. Someone to hear me. When I’m with him, my entire body flutters.

He makes me feel things I haven’t felt in months. He’s comfortable.

The man I love is slowly killing me, little by little, day by day and Claude understands that.

He makes me question everything. He invades my thoughts. Goddess how…’

Catherine paused.

“What?” Felix questioned, seeing the obvious look of discontent on her face. She looked into the notes once again.

Catherine made eye contact with Felix.

‘’Goddess, how I’d fuck him.’

“Oh shit…Catherine…” Felix said, slumping backward in the chair and fixing his gaze to the ceiling. Catherine closed the lesson plans and looked at Felix.

“That’s her last entry.” Catherine said closing the lesson plan book and sliding it towards Felix. She sighed. “It’s all right here. She _wrote_ it down and we missed it.” Catherine shook her head. “We missed _every_ sign. I read all the entries, Felix. I. Need. Help. She wrote it seven times! Each time she wrote it, her entry was a little more desperate than the previous.

Felix scowled. “But…how could we have really known something was wrong?” he asked, desperately searching for an excuse. Catherine shook her head.

“Just…take the planner. Read all the entries. No matter how we try to justify it…we missed it.” Catherine said in defeat.

* * *

“I’m still a delicate flower, you know?”

“After what you did last night there is nothing delicate about you.” Claude reminded Hilda. She laughed. Hilda had a great laugh. It was one of those laughs that wasn’t fake and wasn’t restrained. It was a comfortable laugh. The kind you only let out with someone with whom you could completely disarm yourself. And considering her clothes were all over the floor this morning, she was already pretty…exposed.

“So, Shar’s pregnant.” Claude said out of nowhere, rolling to his side and facing Hilda.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

“Oh, like you’re shocked by this? I’m surprised she hasn’t gotten pregnant earlier.”

“What does she think about this?”

“She’s beyond excited. Amir is too. I heard it from him. They’ve decided to get married when The Throat project is complete…or sooner. Claude examined Hilda, awaiting some kind of reaction.

“What’s going to become of them...you know, when you return to Almyra.”

“Hell, I’m not returning to Almyra alone. They’re coming with me. I’m appointing Amir a Sheikh. I need them in my life. And I was thinking for Shar…” Claude quite obviously didn’t finish his thought. There was so much more on his mind. Things that had gone unsaid for months. “I actually don't know. I'm torn. But, there’s also the matter of your title.” Hilda rolled over to her side, resting her head in her palm and facing Claude.

“My title? Let’s see…how about…nah, never mind that sounds like a lot of work. I don’t need a title. I mean, I’ll always be in your life. But I feel like we need to discuss at what capacity. I feel like you and I have missed a _lot_ of opportunities.”

“ _Why_ did we both write it off as a mistake when you and I slept together six years ago?” Claude asked. Hilda shrugged and shook her head.

“Because friends don’t let friends fuck their friends. It gets weird. Things would have gotten…. _so weird_ between you and I and in the House. Can you imagine? And we never really talked about why it happened in the first place. And then _she_ showed up at the monastery and all of a sudden I took an enormous back seat.” That created an air of silence. Claude shook his head.

“Yeah…yeah you did. You’d think my biggest regret would be having an affair. You really want to know what it is?”

“I’m all ears.”

“Hurting you so much. I have _hurt_ you so much. And you never said anything about it. You never called me on anything.”

“I’m not all innocent. I’ve said some really awful things about some of your choices. I wasn’t supportive of you and Byleth at all. I voiced that…loudly. That’s the real reason I left the monastery when I did. I couldn’t be around you knowing what I knew then. I was _so jealous_ of her. Why did _she_ get you without even fucking trying? I felt so sorry for myself…me…working my _ass_ off for…damn near everything…including you and then _she_ shows up and takes it all without lifting a finger!

“Seriously? Working your ass off? You’ve never done that.” Claude teased her, yawning and rolling to his back.

“I…worked you and your cock over last night! Don’t expect much more than that!” That was it. She’d done it! Claude was _never_ embarrassed about anything…ever. Until right now. He buried himself under the covers. Hilda did something in bed that Byleth would have never done: She took control. Quite possibly, the sexiest thing she could have done. Byleth’s boundaries in the bedroom had never been tested until Claude…Claude’s had never been tested until Hilda. She joined him underneath the blankets. “I’m teasing. I have a lot more to give, you just don’t know it yet.” She put her arm around Claude’s shoulder.

“Did you ever do that with your fiancé? What we did last night…did you ever do it with him?”

“Who me!? No. I um…I never slept with my fiancé, let alone pin him underneath me and force him to…you know…call me stuff.” Claude rolled to his shoulder to face her, throwing the blanket back from their faces.

“Waaaaaait. You… _never_ slept with your _fiancé?”_

“No! Some people aren’t hoes, _Claude_.” She said, flicking his shoulder.

“Oh please! I come on to Amir _one_ time and all you call me a hoe!”

“You hit on him every chance you get! You’d hit on him right now if you could.” Claude shook his head. Hilda sighed. “It would be nice…sharing this perfect bed with two fine men.”

“Do _not_ even joke about that.” Claude cautioned her.

“Pft! Who said anything about joking? I’d hand you a bottle of fragrant vanilla, incense oil and make you rub him down as you assault his neck with your tongue. Can you imagine how much he would glisten as you swallow his dick?” Claude blinked repeatedly.

“You are…you…wow…” Claude’s mouth suddenly turned to cotton. “Damn, Hilda.”

“Yeah, well, I hate to kill your throbbing cock but I’m going to be the one rubbing you down instead. I can imagine how much _you_ will glisten as I’m swallowing _your_ dick.” Claude smiled, horribly.

“You’ve fantasized about this haven’t you?” he accused her.

“Of course, I have! What, like you haven’t!?”

“Well, yeah! But I’ve always imagined it was him going down on me.”

“Okay? So, sixty-nine doesn’t only work on me, genius!”

“If I cum all over these clean sheets, it’s totally your fault.” Hilda sighed pulled her hair to one side of her face as she pushed herself up on her elbow and threw the covers back.

“We can’t have that. Now, I know you’ll be thinking about Amir when I do this…and that’s okay. She licked her lips before taking Claude’s perfect, aching, cock in her mouth. Claude could’ve white knuckled the sheets but instead he took Hilda’s hands in his, forcing her to use only her mouth. It was almost a dare, but Hilda was up for the challenge. She loved the way Claude groaned at her as she took him deeper and deeper into her throat. Hilda could tell by the way he swelled in her mouth that this would happen fast. She didn’t mind. Sometimes it was nice when it happened fast. The night before, Hilda trained Claude well. She wanted him to talk dirty to her…thank the Goddess he was a fast learner. He made Felix’s mouth sound like an excerpt from a church hymn. If the thought of Claude’s hot body all over Amir’s hadn’t got Hilda going, the filthy words would. Claude wouldn’t make a mess of his own sheets, but Hilda would. Claude gave her a warning, but she was ready. Hilda adored it, the rush that filled her mouth. She slowly, almost painfully slid her lips up Claude’s delicious shaft before pressing her lips together and tilting her head back. Hilda contentedly closed her eyes, letting her now freed hands rest on the smooth, cotton sheets. As she paused in that position, her lips glistening, and her chin slicked down in a smooth sheen. She took a much-needed breath through her nose…and swallowed. The hot stream slid down her throat. Hilda parted her lips and as she let her tongue glide over her shimmering lips, she had but one thought: HIL-DA! HIL-DA!

She didn’t leave a trace behind. Hilda really _was_ a delicate flower.


	24. I Want It All

“ALOIS!” Ingrid screeched.

“You’re fine, Ingrid. Come on, push through it.” He said calmly. Seteth glanced uncomfortably as Alois poured peroxide onto Ingrid’s deep abrasions. She screamed louder as the disinfectant hit her skin. Ingrid’s bloodied hands trembled. She didn’t even care that she was practically stripped down to bare chainmail; the wounds on her body hurt too much to give it any bother. Seteth couldn’t help but notice her engagement ring, soaked in her own blood. Alois gave Seteth a nod. “Do it.” He lipped Seteth shook his head, fearful of Alois’ choice. “Do it!” he lipped again. Seteth swallowed hard and quickly reached for Ingrid’s arms, pinning them behind her and quickly tying her already raw wrists.

“What the….No! NO! What the….FUUUUUCK!!”

“It’s alright! Use what you know, Ingrid!” Alois encouraged her. As if her body couldn’t have been in any more pain, Seteth had to go and bind her hands. Ingrid could feel her heart race. Her lance was to her right, the Pegasus, disheveled and out of balance. She let out a yelp as Seteth tightened the cord around her wrists. What was worse, Alois was coming toward her with a dagger to her throat. She was ready, but as she prepared to lunge her body forward….

“FUCK!” she screamed again, Seteth had hold of her restrained hands from behind her. She had to think fast. Just as Alois was prepared to make a move, Ingrid planted the point of her steel toed armor into his shoulder while simultaneously using the momentum to pull up on her restrained hands, releasing them from Seteth’s grasp. She could feel more blood as she slid her wrists opposite one another in an attempt to loosen the cord around her. Alois smiled in delight. Seth was half bothered, half thrilled. Now that Ingrid had her bearings, she immediately kneeled near her lance, using the sharpened edge to cut her restrained wrists before retrieving it. Now, it was time to reclaim her Pegasus…she _still_ hated that damn flying horse. Seteth watched her closely, feeling guilty for all the blood on her arms, neck and face, the abrasions…everything.

Once she had the Pegasus’s attention, she calmed it enough to remount the saddle, leaving red-tinged streaks in the mane. The Pegasus bucked before finally submitting to Ingrid. She was breathless in the saddle, nearly losing her balance. She sunk over on the neck of the Pegasus, hearing a slow clap from Alois.

“Brilliant! That was brilliant, Ingrid.”

“Well done. Excellent escape.” Seteth praised her, moving near the Pegasus’ saddle and offering a hand to her. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” Ingrid was still a little rattled. She knew from the start it was an ambush and attack drill, she just didn’t anticipate it getting so intense.

“You’re a natural, Ingrid! That’s the way to trust your instincts and use what you know.” Gilbert said, appearing from around the wall. He’d been watching the entire drill from afar. Ingrid was shivering in the cold now that the adrenaline was quickly draining from her body. Seteth threw a heavy blanket around her shoulders while tending to the abrasions with warm water.

“Way to go!” Catherine said, also appearing from just out of view. Ingrid was confused, had _everyone_ seen her display of reflexes, athletic ability, and obvious conditioning?

“Nice job, Ingrid. You’ve listened and used what you’ve been taught.” Shamir said, showing herself with Catherine.

“Thanks…thank you…” she said to no one in particular.

“Here, dip your hands.” Seteth encouraged her, as Ingrid let her trembling, bloodied hands hit the warm, soapy water. He watched as her blood-covered diamond began to shine underneath the water as the soap cleansed all it’s fine cuts. Alois, Gilbert, Catherine and Shamir went on and on praising Ingrid for her performance and singing her accolades.

“So, what’s all this….aaaah…my shoulder…about? I wasn’t expecting _that_ kind of drill today. Ouch!” Ingrid winced as Seteth moved behind her, reaching his hands underneath the blanket to her barely covered shoulders.

“Lean back…Ready? On three…” he warned her, obviously preparing to pop her shoulder. She let out a yelp and then a sigh of relief as she leaned back against Seteth. Gilbert approached her, his smile proud and humble.

“Ingrid! You really know how to ‘horse’ around!” Alois cackled in delight. Ingrid rolled her eyes, savoring Seteth’s warm hands on her shoulders.

“We’ve been watching you, training you carefully.” Gilbert began. “You showed leadership skills by not backing down from your stance that Sylvain needed a better schedule than what we delegated to him. That was on purpose.”

“We chose you to train on the Pegasus because you were one of only a few who had the strength and endurance to get up and stay up in the saddle.” Alois said.

“You’ve endured some of the hardest drills and your schedule…we gave you the worst night watch shift and we loaded you with a variety of things to which you have executed without fail.” Seteth said.

“Okay? So, you purposely put me through hell with the training and the damn Pegasus _and_ gave me the worst schedule of anyone?” Ingrid questioned.

“The purpose was to break you…but you’re not so easily broken.” Shamir said. Catherine stepped in front of Ingrid.

“The five of us gathered here today have witnessed from you all the makings of a true knight.” Catherine commended her. Ingrid smiled, grateful for the compliment. Alois shewed Catherine out of the way, taking her place before Ingrid. She could smell the scotch on his breath.

“Ingrid Galatea, we’re here to offer you the highest position grantable within these monastery walls. We hereby invite you to join The Knights of Seiros.” Ingrid couldn’t believe it! Did she really hear what she thought she heard? All this intense training all the bullshit she’d put up with!? _The Knights of Seiros!?_ Seriously!? She’d dreamed of becoming a knight and now the _highest_ honor was being bestowed upon her.

“Wha…the…The Knights of…what?” she questioned, incoherently. Catherine smiled.

“Believe it! We can have your armor fitted this week. We can schedule your induction for the end of the month. Ingrid was blow away. They wanted _her_ for The Knights of Seiros!

“I’m sorry. I’m…I’m just kind of speechless. When would my duties begin? What would my assignments be like? ” Shamir looked to Catherine. Catherine looked to Gilbert. Gilbert looked to Alois. Alois looked to Seteth. He sighed uneasily and looked at Ingrid’s hands in the warm water, her halo diamond now cleaned of the blood from her knuckles that had seeped between its crevices.

“Your duties would…well, they would begin immediately after graduation. Your first assignment would start within a week of graduating.” Seteth began to explain. Ingrid shook her head.

“Okay, what else?” she asked. Seteth nervously glanced to Gilbert and Alois.

“Ingrid…you…will need to remain here…at the monastery after graduation.” Seteth admitted.

“You need to consider this offer carefully. It’s the Knights of Seiros. _Anyone_ can be a wife. Not anyone can a knight.” Gilbert said. Shamir, Catherine and Seteth glared at him. What Gilbert said out loud was precisely what Seteth, Alois, Catherine and Shamir _didn’t_ want to say. She leaned back against Seteth deeper, processing all this information.

“The Knights of Serios.” She smiled. “You _really_ are offering such a position to me?”

“We are!” Alois bellowed.

“What about this semester? The night watches? All the classes? The trainings…that _fucking_ Pegasus? Will I continue to be responsible for those things?”

“You will, but in a lightened capacity and only until graduation.” Catherine answered.

“And…just to clarify...you…know of my plans…to marry Sylvain after graduation.”

“We…realize those are your plans. You can still go through with those plans!” Catherine encouraged. “But you’ll be here, and he will…” it was only now that Catherine realized she had no idea how to finish that thought. She didn’t have a clue of Sylvain’s intentions after graduation. “…he’ll be doing whatever it is that…he intended.”

“Here.” Alois said, slipping a chain over Ingrid’s neck. She admired the small pendant, an engraved shield with the crest of Seiros. “Think about it Ingrid. We don’t need an answer today.” Gilbert reiterated. A ring on her finger, a shield at her neck. It hadn’t hit her quite yet what her colleagues were asking of her. Sylvain or Seiros?

* * *

“I want to know how he did it.” Edelgard began, fully prepared to take all the notes she needed.

“El, I don’t know how he did it.” Hubert was already past his point of patience.

“He pulverized nearly three miles of solid, fucking rock, Hubert! That doesn’t happen overnight. Hee’s been planning this! Do you have _any_ idea what that cleared passage is going to do for Almyra!? Hubert, the country is going to drain Fódlan financially. Claude didn’t blow it up for the hell of it! He wants the trade route! That route stretches from Faerghus, into the Alliance and then… into the Empire. Merchants will go to Almyra…they won’t want to make the journey to the Empire if they can make more money north to south!” Hubert stared. What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to do? Hell, it wasn’t like he could control the trade routes! Edelgard huffed and slumped back in her chair. She wrapped her fingertips against the table.

“You were right about something.” She said, gazing at Hubert. His eyes met hers, awaiting further information. “I can’t give Petra anything I promised her.” Hubert stalled with his teacup. Edelgard admit that she _couldn’t_ do something? Never! “I can’t give her any of the things I mentioned. Since I can't give it to her, I have no choice…”

“A loan from Faerghus?” Hubert questioned.

“Fuck Faerghus.” Edelgard answered. She leaned in toward Hubert. “I can’t give…but I can take.” She said, her smile matching the wild abandon in her eyes.

“What?” Hubert scoffed.

“The empire can’t annex Brigid and it can’t pay Brigid off…but the Empire can _take_ Brigid!” Hubert fell silent. “Think about it, Hubert. If Claude can blow up mountain, so can I!”

“Might I remind you there are no mountain ranges of that grandeur in the Empire for you to pulverize.”

“No, there isn’t. But…there’s a body of water. A body of water that separates Brigid and The Empire. If Claude has the engineering ability to go _through_ something…he has the ability to go _over_ …something.”

“Whatever are you talking about?” Hubert asked.

“We build a bridge. We get Claude. We get his knowledge in any way we have to obtain it; and we do whatever it takes to build a bridge…a Great Span…to Brigid. We have Petra and Petra _loves_ me! First, I lift all political accusation from her record. Then, I talk her into formally renouncing her title…Princess of Brigid…she announces her intention to sympathize fully with The Empire. And…she signs it…a treaty…a treaty to connect the Brigidian archipelago to The Empire’s mainland. A treaty that officially gives The Empire total control of Brigid!” Edelgard could hardly control her wild, expressive eyes. Hubert was mortified. "And _you_ are going to help make it happen."

“You’re sick, Edelgard…” he said, taken aback. "I...won't...I won't do that."

“Excuse me?” she asked, disgusted. "You _will!"_ Hubert swallowed heavily and shoved his tea aside, feeling a pit of sickness overtake him.

“You…don’t love Petra anymore, do you? What you have already suggested, a marriage between you, I, and her, that you forced us into; was already madness. But now? You’ve gone too far, Edelgard.”

“You won’t be saying I’ve gone too far when I dig the Empire out of its financial rut! We’re building a bridge, and Claude is going to make it happen. Do whatever it is you have to do to get answers!” Edelgard was practically drunk with power in her moment as she made her way toward Hubert, sliding onto his lap. “Why do you doubt my love for you?” she asked, dragging her fingertips over his cheek. “I’ve always been curious. I’ve always had…a lust...deep within me that you alone could not satiate. There are some things one must simply get out of their system...like Petra. You should know all about that yourself. I’m only sorry that Ferdinand rejected you as a lover and Petra did not reject me.” It hit an intense nerve in Hubert. He shot serious eyes at her.

“That was _different,_ Edelgard! I wasn’t faking it!” he defended. Edelgard shrugged.

“I wasn’t either. I wanted Petra. But she couldn’t give me _everything_ I wanted. I want it all. And, to have it all, I need her _and_ you.” Edelgard laughed. “I’m surprised at you, really. You had it so badly for such a blindly religious man. All he got was married, but you?” Edelgard stroked her fingers over Hubert’s face again. Hubert could feel his body become suddenly cold. Edelgard couldn’t finish her thought.

“Fer…Ferdinand got married?” Hubert asked, almost completely anguished. He wasn’t sure which information was more nauseating: the fact that Edelgard used Petra or what he just heard escape her mouth. “Wha….why didn’t he say anything?” he squeaked. Edelgard rolled her eyes.

“Please! Don’t act so upset! Like it would have mattered? It’s not my fault Ferdinand wouldn’t suck your dick.” Edelgard hardly got the words out before she felt strong hands push her away.

“SHUT YOUR MOUTH!” Hubert screamed at her. It took all of his composure not to launch a palm to Edelgard’s face. He’d _never_ been so angry with her. He’d never felt so used by her. He’d _never_ raised his voice at her and she just pushed him over the edge. All those years of idly being at her beck and call. Doing _any fucking thing_ Edelgard ever wanted. And now this!? Use Petra and then throw it in his face!? All this time…Hubert believed Dimitri to be the crazy one.

Edelgard stepped back, stumbling over the edge of the table, startled by Hubert’s reaction. She trembled nervously. Though he’d never do it, Hubert was in a state to knock the shit out of Edelgard.

“Just…bring Claude to me…” she said softly before leaving the room in haste.

* * *

Marianne examined the small bottle of liquid in her hand. “So, this is it? The liquid that changed it all.”

“I’m sorry?” Dorothea questioned, shifting her dress at her hip. Marianne drew the liquid into the syringe, giving the needle a tap.

“I looked at your records. You were the first woman at this monastery to receive a contraceptive shot.” Marianne reminded her, cleaning the spot on her hip.

“Oh, that? I don’t understand it. There were women in Enbarr…opera divas…socialites…they were already using it. That was the first I ever heard about such a thing. The opera singers encouraged me to take it. I wasn’t…ready back then, you know? When I had the conversation with Mercedes about the shot, she acted as if she hadn’t heard of it. I told her to talk to Manuela.” Dorothea said with a wink. Marianne smiled.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You really set a precedence around here. I looked at the statistics. When you got your first shot, do you know what the percentage of contraceptive use was at this monastery?” Marianne asked, clearly having done her homework.

“No. I hadn’t thought about it, actually.”

“Zero percent. Four months after your first injection, contraceptive use increased to 38%. Nine months after, it increased to a staggering 71%.” Marianne laughed. “Seteth isn’t too thrilled with that trend, but…Dorothea…you’re a real revolutionary.”

“Seventy-one percent!?” Dorothea asked, feeling the stick in her hip. “No wonder everyone around here is a lot calmer than years back. They are…much too busy getting laid.” Marianne laughed. “I have deep admiration for you. And then there’s your engagement photo? Did you know that because of you, the sweetheart neck corset has fallen out of favor? The trendiest boutiques in town can’t keep straight cut corsets in their shops!”

“Hey! That was my mother-in-law, not me! I wanted to cover everything up for that picture! I was the conservative one.” Dorothea laughed. “My father-in-law didn’t mind.”

“I’m glad you didn’t cover up! You looked fantastic and the blue velvet? No one’s ever done that before, Dorothea! There was nothing distasteful about that picture. Most engagement photos are very conservative and with muted colors. Not yours! I’ve been fawning over your engagement portrait for months.”

“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” she questioned.

“Oh, of course! You’re a real trailblazer. I wish I were more like you. You know, when you first came to this monastery…you had quite the reputation. Everyone just assumed you slept your way here. No one even gave you a chance to speak otherwise. They just figured you were easy. The thing is…that didn’t seem to phase you. I want to be like that. I want to be able to stand for myself! You re-invented yourself and you changed a seemingly un-changeable man. It’s impressive, Dorothea. When we met, you wanted a noble to take care of you.” Marianne laughed. “Now? You’re going to significantly change the way House Fraldarius runs.”

“That’s…so sweet of you!” Dorothea said, turning pink.

“Listen to me. When you become a duchess? _All_ eyes will be on you. I mean it. You’re going to over-shadow Felix and you have the power to shape House Fraldarius into your collective vision. Marianne leaned in toward Dorothea. “You normalized _sex_ …Seteth isn’t very excited about that either but… _you did_! You and Felix were candid about…everything. Then, it was a domino effect. Because of Felix, the Nobles’ Ring fell out of favor. It’s been called ‘generic and dated’ did you know that!? House Fraldarius is going to be a wonderful place to live and work.” She smiled. Dorothea had never thought herself a visionary, or, as Marianne called her, a trailblazer. And, she definitely didn’t see herself as a political leader for House Fraldarius. All that aside, it was Marianne who had undergone a metamorphosis. She was _talking_ to Dorothea…a complete conversation…no stumbling, no nerves, no hesitation…and Dorothea took note.

“You know, we all have a chance to re-invent ourselves. You’re right I entered this monastery a very different person than how I’ll leave it. I think that’s true for you too. Look at you! You used to barely say a word to anyone. Now, here you are…in the clinic understudying with Mercedes!” Any other time, Marianne would have turned bright pink and hid her face. This time, instead of hiding underneath her insecurities she smiled at Dorothea, removing her protective smock. Dorothea couldn’t believe her eyes. _Now_ Marianne turned pink and giggled, partially embarrassed and partially because she couldn’t believe she was actually showing Dorothea what she was wearing: a straight cut corset dress. It lacked a neckline and it revealed the _real_ Marianne; the one who’d been hiding underneath layers and layers of self-consciousness…and pressed cotton.

“Marianne!” Dorothea exclaimed. “You’re…you are _beautiful!!!”_ She was tickled. This version of Marianne was pretty great. This… _confident_ woman who…was clearly in her element and loving it. She wasn’t all horses, avoiding others at all costs, and being crushed under the weight of her own poor self-esteem. She was the woman who’d never before had a voice and the only thing that looked better on her than her navy-blue straight cut corset, was her smile.

“Tell me this.” Dorothea began, letting her dress fall over her hip. “…When are you sticking this into your hip?” she asked, referencing the now empty syringe. Marianne laughed and turned even brighter pink.

“Not until graduation day.” Dorothea hadn’t actually expected Marianne to answer. Dorothea shook her head.

“That’s four months. You won’t wait that long.” Dorothea gave her a wink before slapping the doorframe on her way out. “Oh, and Marianne? I dare you to wear that gorgeous dress to dinner tonight!”

“Oh, I will…because…I have… _a date!”_ Marianne said it excitedly, not as if she were about to burst into flames. It grabbed Dorothea’s attention.

“Linhardt again?” she questioned. Marianne nodded. Dorothea grinned and shook her head.

“Graduation day my ass…” she mumbled.

* * *

Sylvain was nervous as he sat before Dimitri. He had no idea how Dimitri would handle the news…which was why he insisted Felix be present for backup. “You wished to see me?” Dimitri asked.

“Yeah…” Sylvain said, fidgeting in his chair and glancing at Felix. “Um…I…” Sylvain sighed, wiping his fingers over his forehead. “Okay, it’s about…the House. It’s about…us…it’s about Byleth.” Dimitri particularly perked up at the last part. “Listen, I…I don’t _have_ Byleth but…I have information. Dimitri listened intently.

“I… _we_ …talked to Catherine and Shamir. Dimitri, Byleth has been missing since August.” Sylvain could hardly say it out loud without feeling a pit in his stomach.

“She…she… _what_!? What do you mean _missing_!?”

“Okay, okay hear me out…had _anyone_ of known this was going to happen…we…we could have _never_ instigated that formal complaint…” Sylvain motioned for Felix to take over.

“Shamir says that the last time she saw Claude was in July. The complaint was handed to her in August. She showed up at Claude’s the same night of the Academy Festival and…took off. No one has _any_ idea where she is or where she’s been for…five months.”

“What!?” Dimitri’s voice cracked and his hands shook. “Wh…Why…Why wasn’t it reported as a missing persons case!? She could be dead! Oh, goddess help us…my beloved! She is my beloved and she’s been missing for five months!?” Dimitri was on the verge of a breakdown. His hands only shook more.

“There’s more. There’s more, please listen.” Felix said, nervous that Dimitri may explode.

“Shamir said that she and Claude wanted to track her whereabouts. She said there’s a wyvern and it’s able to track scent.” Felix explained. “She couldn’t be tracked because there was nothing available with viable scent.” Dimitri listened, still shaking but calmer.

“The Aegir hounds! Why didn’t anyone get the Aegir hounds! They are... _hunting dogs_ , Felix!!” Dimitri half yelled.

“The wyvern’s nose is nearly two hundred times stronger than the Aegir hound according to Shamir. There was nothing that could be used, Dimitri!” Felix huffed in frustration. “Shamir went to Byleth’s dorm room and it had already been cleaned out. She coulda’ been found months ago but Shamir came up empty handed.” Dimitri stopped shaking.

“Wait…so…you’re telling me that…if there were…were something…with Byleth’s scent, she could be tracked…now.? We could find her?” Dimitri’s eyes changed from dreadful to hopeful.

“Yeah. It’s just that…” Felix was interrupted by Dimitri clambering around his bed. “Ooooooh shit….” Felix’s mouth fell open as he looked to Sylvain for his reaction at what was unfolding. Dimitri began pulling bag after bag, pile after pile of Byleth’s belongings from underneath his bed, strewing them around in frustration. Every garment cleverly concealed behind the dust sheet around the bottom of the bed. Sylvain watched in disbelief as a teary-eyed Dimitri scattered his floor with Byleth’s things. And then the chifforobe…Dimitri hurried to his feet and unlocked it, flinging the doors open only for _her_ things to come falling out. It was locked for months. Locked away like Dimitri’s pain. There is was. All the evidence that Dimitri had never gotten over Byleth…all the evidence that he could not let her go. It explained why _none_ of her belongings ever turned up. Everyone had assumed they were taken by Claude after her departure from the monastery

“I took it all…” his said softly. “I didn’t have her…but…I had…everything…I had…us…in all of this. This…was our life…” Dimitri said, feeling his entire body become clammy. Sylvain glanced to Felix with a look of part horror and part bewilderment. The real question here? _How_ was Dimitri able to keep all of this from Dedue? Dimitri’s life had been as messy as the explosive piles in the floor but, also like his life, all of his torture, all of his unresolved issues with Byleth had been locked away. But here it was: clothes vomit that Sylvain and Felix now had to clean up.

“I’m so sorry, Dimitri.” Sylvain finally said as he examined everything in the floor, some of Byleth’s long-sleeved House shirts having obviously not been washed since they were last worn. “I’m sorry, Dimitri.” He repeated. Sylvain shook his head. “I’m sorry…”

“I’m sorry too.” Felix began. “I’m sorry that when you needed your friends the most, you had none.” Felix paused and scowled in frustration. He looked to Dimitri. “I’m here to make it all up to you, Dimitri. We both will.” Felix added, speaking for Sylvain. “Fuck Dedue. _We’re_ protecting you now. And…to protect you, we’re here to show you our support…for Byleth.” Felix confessed. Dimitri was moved. Had Dimitri been a hugger, Felix and Sylvain would have received the biggest hug in this moment. Instead, he smiled, making eye contact with first, Sylvain and then Felix. Dimitri stood and waded through the clutter on the floor. He shuffled around in the chifforobe some more before displaying something in his hand.

“You said that wyvern needed Byleth’s scent to track her, right?” Dimitri asked. He held in his hand, the Holy Grail. The piece of the Byleth’s missing puzzle that _no one_ had…not even Claude: Byleth’s hairbrush. Felix and Sylvain stared in awe. It was more than perfect. Her scent would be so dense in the residual hair that the wyvern would locate her in no time. Felix shrugged.

“Let’s do it. Let’s cut through.” Felix insisted.

* * *

If asked, Lorenz would say that Lysithea had the glow. The radiance of an expectant mother. The dewy skin of a woman who would bestow upon him the greatest of gifts. Lysithea, however, had a very different take on the whole thing. Glow? What _fucking_ glow!? That _glow_ was the incessant sweating. It was winter for Goddess’ sake. Who _sweat_ like this in the middle of January unless you were leaving the sauna!? And the _radiance!?_ Yeah, whatever. Lysithea wanted Lorenz to take all of that ‘radiance’ and shove it up his ass! And _dewy skin!?_ More like, constant blotchiness from all that sweating and the itching that accompanied her growing belly. To sum, Lysithea was not enjoying the end of her second trimester, though Linhardt had given her a clean bill of health, praising her for how she’d taken care of herself. Then, there were the leg cramps and dizziness _every_ damn time she stood up too fast. Finally, as if _all_ of that weren’t enough there were the hormones that had sent her body into overdrive. Lysithea walked a fine line between being wired for hours and crashing from exhaustion, exploding over teabags left in the sink or crying over vanilla spongecake. It was a roller coaster for her. 

So, here they were enjoying the afternoon. Enjoying it aside from Lysithea also having an unusual amount of rage toward a fly in the dining hall. “And Linhardt said that we really should be considering things like your birthing plan.” Lysithea sighed.

“What? What’s a birth plan? I _plan_ to have this baby in three months. There. That's the plan.”

“Yes, but…do…you wish for me to be present? Who do you want with you when you go into labor? That's...a big part of the plan.” Lorenz asked nervously. He had a heartfelt talk with Ferdinand and Linhardt about whether or not it was appropriate to be present at the birth of ones' child.

“Do you… _want_ to be present?” Lysithea asked. Expectant fathers _never_ accompanied the mothers of their children during labor. It was taboo, wasn’t it? Well, having a baby out of wedlock was too so the jig was up. Lorenz placed his cotton napkin on the table and flipped his exquisite hair.

“I had a long discussion with Ferdinand about this matter. We arrived at the mutual decision that it would be very un-noble of me _not_ to accompany you. Furthermore, Linhardt and I discussed it. Lysithea, do you realize only one other man in this monastery has witnessed the birth of a child?”

“And that is?” she asked.

“Seteth.” Lorenz answered. “And he says that if I miss it, I’ll forever regret it. I want to regret nothing, and I don’t want you to be alone.” Lysithea believed his sincerity. Oh, here it came. Stupid hormonal tears.

“Lorenz!” she answered, fanning her face. “Of _course,_ I want you with me during delivery! If that's the birth plan then that's the plan I want!” He was relieved and elated.

“Oh, I’m so glad! I feared you wouldn’t want it!”

“Yes! Yes! I want you with me!” Lysithea whimpered. She sniffed and dried her eyes. “You, Just you. And Mercedes, Marianne, and Linhardt.” Lysithea assured him. "Ugh...that's a lot of people who are gong to see me naked from the waist down."

“That should be the least of your concerns. This is simply wonderful! Now, we need to consider who we wish to name guardians for our son…or daughter, Goddess. What do you think, your parents or mine?” Lysithea thought about it, still emotional from the thought of having Lorenz witness their child’s birth. Lorenz was in for an earful.

“About that…okay…my parents know that I’m pregnant and they know it’s yours and…” Lysithea took a deep breath, watching the stupid fly continue to shake up her world. “…they told your parents…” tears formed in Lysithea’s eyes again. “Lorenz, your parents asked my family for 21,000G as reparations for an out-of-wedlock child and to secure a marriage. My parents can’t pay that. Not even close.” Lysithea sniffed. “My family has already stated their displeasure. They aren’t going to acknowledge our baby as a House Ordelia heir.” It was disappointing certainly. “We…need to pick someone else as guardians. And let’s face it…I…” Lysithea could feel tears well up in her eyes. “I’m not going to see this baby grow to adulthood so…I think it’s necessary for you to…have options for taking another wife after my death.” Lysithea hid her face in her hands. However, the fly landed on the back of her hand, sending her into a fitful rage. “GODDESS DAMN IT! FUCKING FLY! BURN YOU SON OF A BITCH!” She sent her tear-stained hand onto the table, sending the fork flying, and a plate shattering to the floor. It got the attention of the cooks. Hell, now she didn’t even if she was crying because of the fly guts on her hand, her family rejecting her unborn child, picking a new wife for Lorenz before she even had a chance to be his, or the now silent dining hall.” All eyes were on her. Lorenz put his palm to his chest, standing up and giving his hair a flip.

“It’s fine. This is fine…everything’s fine.” He said, nodding his head frantically before sitting down again and taking Lysithea’s hands in his.

“I will give up my own life if it means saving yours. Mark my word, Lys. I will have the best team of doctors I can find seeing to your medical care! I will…I will do _anything_ in my power to prolong your life!” Now it was Lorenz’s turn to bring on the tears.

“Lorenz…” Lysithea snotted. “…the fly is all over your hands now…” Lysithea wept.

“Oh, dear Goddess…yes, it is…come, come darling. Let’s clean up…wash up…we are _not_ going to focus on your family, my family…the future…we are going to the courtyard and we are going to revel in the joy that this child is going to bring! Mark my word, Lys…I’ll renounce all nobility in my blood if it secures my future with you.” Lorenz promised her. Lysithea dried her eyes and stared intently at Lorenz before planting her lips into his. There was nothing daytime rated about that kind of kiss. Blame the hormones.

* * *

Sharmayne watched as Hilda worked figuring the exact cost of all the marble Amir was preparing to order quarried in Almyra for what was affectionately being called The Pass to Heaven. It was Amir’s idea. In his mind, when the sunlight bounced off the white marble, the glare would be golden, as if travelers were passing into the gates of Heaven. She had figured and re-figured the numbers over and over to ensure there wasn’t an error. Hilda finally shook her head. “Your boyfriend may be pretty, but he sure doesn’t know the meaning of the word budget. How does he expect to _move_ nineteen tons of sold marble, let alone pay for it?” Sharmayne laughed.

“He’s going to use battle wyverns. He estimates that a team of nineteen can easily transport one ton a piece. Now, the paying for it? Well, you’d need to ask _your_ boyfriend about that. Claude seems to easily manage writing every check Amir gives him.” Hilda laughed, tossing the pencil aside. She didn’t want to work _too_ hard. She made herself comfortable on the ivory couch, stretching herself out and facing Sharmayne.

“Yeah, Claude doesn’t seem to worry much about money. You know why, right?” she asked. Sharmayne shook her head.

“I just…figure Almyra has more money than he makes public.”

“Think about it. Claude inherited the established fortunes of _two_ territories. The Alliance…and Almyra. The Riegan inheritance is obvious but people forget about the _other_ one. It’s easy to forget because Claude has always been a von Riegan…well, a _lmost_ always.” Hilda explained.

“What do you mean?” Shar was intrigued.

“Does the name Zharkajian mean anything to you?” Hilda’s smile covered her face.

“Well, yes. That’s…an Almyran royal family name.”

“Exactly. Claude’s father…the King of Almyra…” Hilda said.

“That means…” Sharmayne was shocked.

“Yep. Claude is a Zharkajian by birth…a Riegan by royal order.” Shar nodded.

“I couldn’t make the connection…why Claude was the rightful king to Almyra…you have a way of bringing things full circle.” Hilda yawned, stretching her arms over her head. Shar looked thoughtfully at Hilda’s numbers.

“You know…I think you’re better suited to be with Claude. You know him _so_ well. I never realized it until you and I started spending more time together. Can I tell you something?” Sharmayne questioned, leaning back in her chair, placing her hands on her still non-visible stomach. “I don’t think she…the woman before you…ever loved Claude. I liked her but it seemed like she was a bit of a mess. I couldn’t understand how she intended to be Queen of Almyra. She was always so nervous…so…flighty. She didn’t know Claude the way you do.” That peaked Hilda’s attention.

“She fucked Claude…literally and figuratively. He wanted her _so_ badly! He…had _feelings_ invested in her! Then she…” Hilda shook her head in disgust. “…it’s not important. What _is_ important is that she’s gone.” Sharmayne blinked.

“I…should share something with you.” she paused. “…there was a letter…that arrived here. But I took it out of the mail because…I didn’t know if you or Claude should see it.” She confessed. Hilda was perplexed. Sharmayne rose from the couch and went to the kitchen counter, opening the cabinet below and pulling an envelope from within. Without a word, she handed it to Hilda who examined it curiously. 

"What is this?" Hilda was confused. 

"Just...open it. I only glanced at the top before stuffing it back into the envelope." Sharmayne said. Hilda diverted her gaze back to the envelope. It was unremarkable but what she pulled out…a letter…from Byleth Eisner. There was no return address nor was there any date:

Claude, I knew not the course where my actions would lead me.

It is only now I realize how much damage I have left in my wake.

It was not Dimitri who suffered most as a result of my decisions.

And it wasn’t you. The one whom my decisions hurt most

was your dear friend, Sharmayne.

Being with you was a constant reminder that my actions displaced her,

a woman who knew nothing but displacement for much of her adult life.

She taught me a grand lesson

But Only Fools Rush In

And that is what I did. I rushed in. 

And a fool is what I am. I rushed in.

I caused havoc in her world. In your world. In my world. 

Were you worth it, Claude? Of course, you were.

Without you, I would have never met Sharmayne.

Without you, the lesson I needed would have never been learned.

Without you, I could not be certain about the one I love.

There is but only one man I will ever love.

Dimitri.

I have unfinished business, Claude. Because of this, I must return to the monastery.

Not to you and not to Almyra, but to Garreg Mach. I must right my wrongs.

And to start, I’ve enclosed a petition to redeem what I’ve done to Sharmayne.

To give back what was taken from her. From you.

Her name and your name. You know what I mean.

You must finish the work. I’m sorry it took this long.

Please stop hiding, Claude. Your nation needs you.

Unite this world in which we live.

The worlds in which we have both inflicted chaos.

I must go now. I am needed as you are needed.

Forever in Your Debt,

-Byleth J. Eisner-

Hilda felt her breath shake as she pulled the remaining contents from the envelope. She looked at the heading, then looked to Sharmayne who was just as surprised as she. “Oh shit…” Hilda mumbled, reading the document:

-PETITION TO FÓDLAN ON BEHALF OF ALMYRA –

IMMEDIATE RELEASE OF THE NAMED AND UNAMED ALMYRAN WOMEN SERIVNG NOBLE HOUSES ACROSS THE FÓDLANI CONTINENT

And then, the signatures. Three hundred of them gathered from various regions of Fódlan, mainly in the Alliance and in the eastern regions of Faerghus. Three hundred Almyran women. All of them seeking the freedom to return home…to Almyra. All of them signing…with birth names. Of the houses queried, forty-one out of fifty signed to release all Almyran staff upon immediate enaction of the petition. Hilda stared in disbelief. _This!? This_ is what Byleth had been away doing!? Hilda gazed at the blank lines. The four blank lines that would enact this petition into an enforceable law. Damn it. Now Hilda had no choice but to be on her side! That bitch! How did she turn herself into a self-proclaimed hero!? Hilda looked up from the paper, speechless, her eyes burning into Sharmayne’s. This moment would define Hilda as a future leader. She swallowed her pride…and her general disdain for Byleth, handing Sharmayne a pen from the table.

“Do it. Finish her work, Shar.” Sharmayne peered at all the signatures, examining the names, all of them Almyran names…names she hadn’t heard in so long that they almost had become a memory. And so, with no further hesitation, she signed it:

SHADA NAZARI

There it was. She hadn’t written her birth name since fleeing to The Empire after her life there went sour. It was oddly liberating. At last, with the enacting of this petition, Shar would become Shada once again and Priscilla? Perhaps, she could finally live in a world where she could be Parisa...the way she’d been born. Perhaps this petition really was the start of a New Dawn for Fódlan and for Almyra. However, it wasn’t _completely_ done. Three signatures left: The Emperor of the Empire. The King of Faerghus. And…The King of Almyra.

* * *

It was late, approaching 11:00. Mercedes was on the couch before a comforting fire, folding laundry while Ferdinand finished up the dishes from dinner in the kitchen. It caught Merdedes off guard when there was a knock at the door. She stared at the door, as if to assume the knock would disappear. There it was again. “Ferdinand!” she called, standing up and walking to the door to peer through the peep hole. She gasped. “Ferdinand!” she called again, walking toward the kitchen. “The door. It’s Hubert?” she said, mostly question in her voice. Ferdinand looked puzzled as he dried his hands and walked toward the door, opening it and allowing the cold night to rush in. Hubert raised his gaze to meet Ferdinand’s. He was…a mess and completely disheveled. Immediately, Ferdiand could smell the alcohol on Hubert’s breath.

“Hubert! Please, please come in. C’mon. It’s so cold!” Hubert drank in the sight of Ferdinand. Why did he have to look like this? Ferdinand stood there, opening the door wider, his clingy black pants and deeply cut shirt evidence that he wasn’t far from heading to bed. It destroyed Hubert. The golden cross of Seiros that hung around Ferdinand's neck didn’t make this situation any better. And to top it off, all that cascading ginger-kissed hair. Hubert almost couldn’t handle it. “Hubert!” Ferdinand repeated. Hubert’s eyes met Ferdinand’s, desperate, pain-filled.

“I…” he didn’t finish his sentence. Right there, at Ferdinand’s threshold, Hubert…broke…crumbled, in fact. He didn’t even attempt to hold back the tears. He couldn’t. Ferdinand immediately coerced Hubert inside, putting an arm around his shoulders. Mercedes quickly freed up the couch, hurrying into the adjacent dining room and rummaging through a cabinet. She clambered around, digging through the shelves. As Ferdinand led Hubert to the couch, he looked to Mercedes. She offered coffee in her left hand to which Ferdinand shook his head in disagreement. She then offered the cognac in her right, to which he emphatically agreed. Mercedes scurried back to the cabinet and poured Hubert a glass. She made her way to the couch, kneeling before him and placing the glass on the coffee table. Truthfully, he didn’t need _more_ alcohol. What he _really_ needed was…actually, Ferdinand wasn’t sure what brought Hubert to his door so late at night. Mercedes pointed to herself and then to the bedroom indicating her intention to leave the two alone. Ferdinand nodded before Mercedes scooped up the laundry and left, he and Hubert alone.

Hubert continued to sob, even after the bedroom door clicked shut. Ferdinand helped him out of his coat, tossing it aside as Hubert’s tears showed no sign of easing.

“It’s okay…” Ferdinand said quietly, putting an arm around Hubert’s shoulder once again. Actually, he had no idea if it was okay or not. When someone shows up at your door unannounced at 11:00 having most definitely been drinking…it’s certainly _not_ okay. Hubert had to get it out, it was a long overdue cry. Hubert had been holding back his pain for so long. Why not let it all out on Ferdinand’s couch? “Tell me what’s going on.” Ferdinand asked gently. Hubert let another heavy sob escape him and lifted his glassy, drunken eyes to Ferdinand’s hand. Hubert gazed at the golden band on Ferdinand’s finger, feeling a wave of emotions he couldn’t quite identify.

“She’s…she’s gone too far.” Hubert could feel the tears chase one another down his cheek. Ferdinand handed over his handkerchief, but his sweet smell was almost too much for Hubert to bear.

“Who’s gone too far?” Ferdinand pressed.

“Edelgard…” Hubert sniffed. “I have…served Edelgard blindly, loyally…without question or falter since I was fifteen.” Hubert paused and took a long drink of cognac. “I have been at her beck and call without fail…” he began to feel his eyes well up once more. “That…ungrateful… _bitch!”_ Hubert sneered.

“What has she done?” Ferdinand asked. Hubert looked pitiful, as if he couldn’t say it out loud. “Tell me…what has she done?” Hubert quietly wept.

“She…she’s going to use Petra’s affection toward her to claim Brigid as her own…for the Empire! She’s going to use her and discard her, Ferdinand! She’s going to marry me, and Petra will join as marriage. Edelgard doesn’t want Petra as a lover…she wants her as a pawn.” Hubert began to sob once again. “And that’s all I’ve ever been to her as well…”

“Well, you have no choice. You have to tell Petra.” Ferdinand said, putting an arm around his friend.

“I know…I know that I must.” Hubert said, taking another drink of cognac.

“Hubert, you don’t have to marry Edelgard.” Ferdinand reassured him.

“Yes, I do!” Hubert wept.

“No! You don’t! You have options, Hubert! You have…”

“Ferdinand, you’re the only man I’ve ever had feelings toward. I _have_ to marry Edelgard because I can’t spend a lifetime with you! I have to marry Edelgard…” Hubert repeated. “I have to marry Edelgard…I have to marry Edelgard.” Maybe it was the alcohol, or perhaps it was Hubert convincing himself that he had no other choice. Ferdinand watched Hubert’s pitiful, defeated, broken down actions and the tape he had been forced to repeat in his head. “Why didn’t you tell me you got married?” he choked, changing the subject.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Ferdinand was sincere.

“I had to find out from _her!_ Do you have any idea how difficult that was!? It isn’t fair. It just isn’t fair. I still love you…” Hubert confessed, burying his wet face in his palms. Though Ferdinand didn’t have the words that Hubert so desperately wanted to hear, he was able to offer his friendship, a stable shoulder for Hubert to unleash so many years’ worth of pain and doubt. “I always told Edelgard that I merely had passing affections toward you…but they always ran so much deeper.” Hubert sniffed and fluttered his eyes toward the ceiling. “I’m sorry, Ferdinand…I’m rambling. Just…I’ll go. I’ll see myself out.”

“Don’t go. It’s dreadfully cold tonight. Stay here. You can sleep before the fire right here.” Ferdinand said giving the couch a pat. Hubert found a great deal of comfort in Ferdinand’s hospitality. He fantasized what his life would have been like. What would it be like if that band on Ferdinand’s finger represented his union to Hubert…not Mercedes? What would it be like if Hubert hadn’t sworn blind allegiance to Edelgard’s care? What would be it like to wake up in Aegir country to the sweet sight of Ferdinand at his side, his fingertips swimming in carefree, auburn hair? Hubert knew his thoughts were insane. Ferdinand left to fetch Hubert a blanket and extra pillow. As Hubert stared drunkenly at the fire thinking about Ferdinand falling asleep beside Mercedes tonight, he felt another surge of tears. It wasn’t that Hubert wasn’t happy for his friend and his recent nuptials. He _was_ happy for him. Afterall, Ferdinand had managed to secure an uncomplicated life with a woman who adored him. Perhaps it was two-fold for Hubert. Not only was he envious of Mercedes. He was envious of the life that he didn’t have.


	25. We Just Disagree

Of all the things Felix had expected to be doing on his one-year anniversary and birthday, _this_ was last on the list. He wasn’t celebrating one year with Dorothea. That date had passed. This was a different anniversary.

“Hey, I really appreciate you giving up your birthday plans to do this.” Sylvain said, watching the emerald wyvern as she sniffed and cooed at him. She had grown into a playful, curious full-on juvenile. She certainly wasn’t a baby anymore and she currently weighed 510 pounds. Though Sylvain was a little apprehensive when he felt the wyvern’s breath on him, this was precisely why she was the best tracker…she wanted to smell and understand everything.

“I’m not giving up shit. Don’t worry. It’s never too late for what I’m going to do later.” Felix assured him. Naturally, Sylvain’s curiosity was heightened, just like the wyvern’s.

“Wha…what…what are you _doing_?” Felix couldn’t hide his horrible smirk. He shrugged.

“I don’t know. But I can tell you that Dee will be in control. All she told me was that she was going to be my fucking whore and then she left for her choir rehearsal with Ferdinand.” Sylvain blinked.

“You’re…you’re _awful!_ Do you know that? You’ve turned into me and I don’t know if I like it!”

“Sylvain, I am _nothing_ like you. I haven’t fucked Dee in a public place…yet.”

“Hey, that was _one_ time and to be honest…” Sylvain lowered his voice. “…I kinda’ blame Ingrid for that one but…whatever, whatever. We have a job to do.”

“Yeah. So, what do you know about wyvern tracking?” Felix asked.

“Nothing.” Sylvain said quickly. He sighed. “I don’t know shit about wyvern tracking…which is why I did some reading and went to Seteth for help.”

“You asked Seteth?” Felix questioned, as the two noticed Dimitri in the distance heading their way.

“I did. He was…surprised…to say the least. And he brought a very small detail to my attention. Felix, we _all_ signed that grievance. Seteth reminded me that, if we find Byleth, we have to make that little document go away. In the eyes of the Church of Seiros, she’s an _adulterer_ who betrayed Dimitri as a lover and a House Leader, with a documented case, witnesses, evidence and… _Dedue_. He interrogated her. He is the only one who has…really graphic details of the affair. He could stop the professor instantly, if he finds out what we’re doing.” Felix thought a moment. Sylvain’s points were valid.

“Shit. So, you’re telling me this could all be in vain?”

“We’ll talk about it later. Dimitri might hear us.”

“Sorry, I’m late! I have it here!” Dimitri said enthusiastically holding up Byleth’s hairbrush within the confines of a burlap bag. “Happy birthday, Felix!” he added. Felix gave him a small grin.

“Thank you. Are you ready to do this?” Dimitri smiled.

“I am. Tell me, Sylvain. How do you know this will work?” Dimitri asked, eagerly. Sylvain nervously sighed.

“Well, I…uh, you know…I did my research with wyverns and…” Felix elbowed Sylvain. “I asked Seteth how to do this.” He said, nodding.

“You consulted a fine source, then.”

“Are you positive you’re ready for this, Dimitri? Because…when she tracks Byleth’s whereabouts….” Sylvain began.

“I brought that too.” Dimitri said, presenting a sealed envelope bearing the Garreg Mach seal. It was attached to a leather strap the wyvern would wear. “Do you…think I’m making the wrong choice?” Dimitri asked.

Felix looked to Slyvain who was nervously exchanging his glance. Sylvain shook his head and threw his arms out. “Do you think you are? Because now’s the time to change your mind? Stop!” He said, trying to push the wyvern’s nose away from him. That may have easily worked when she was 100 pounds, but not now. Dimitri shook his head.

“No, I don’t. I just…need reassurance, that’s all.”

“I’ve been thinking about it. You and…the professor. When you got together, you both kept it very quiet. I was…probably one of the few who knew about your relationship. I remember how…pissed I was at you when we were on that mission and we stayed at the inn. It was my own stuff I had to deal with but at the time I couldn’t believe that you and the professor were together. I thought it was…overstepping a lot of boundaries. And then, not long after that, Dee and I got together, and I understood what you and the professor had. I…completely freaked after I heard about…you know. I wish I hadn’t. I wish I would have fought for the two of you, Dimitri. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I wasn’t at all there for you or for the professor. And, this is my way of making it up to you.”

“Thank you, Felix.” Dimitri said sincerely.

“Alright, let’s um…” Sylvain had no idea how to finish his thought and he was panicked about the next steps. Seteth informed Sylvain of the basics: Affix a memo to the wyvern’s neck using a leather strap, give her the hand sign and allow her to indulge an object laden with the scent; give her the hand sign three more times, and clear the way for her to take off. Sylvain practiced the hand sign for a good twenty minutes. That was it. The wyvern cooed at Sylvain and tilted her head before shifting her focus to Felix. She purred and chirped, seeming to like Felix’s scent just as much as she liked Sylvain’s. Seteth gave Sylvain one other piece of advice: Let her warmup by sniffing anything she wished because that was how wyverns behaved who were born to track.

“So, is she…supposed to do this?” Felix asked as he got a gentle headbutt from her. Of course, he also got slobbered on because she was quite content with herself.

“Yeah, yeah. She’s good. She’s…ya’ know. That’s normal.” Sylvain said, having not a clue if the wyvern should be drooling on Felix’s clothes.

“I’m impressed at the time and dedication you’ve put toward this task.” Dimitri praised Sylvain, causing him to pray to the Goddess harder than he ever had because if he fucked up Seteth’s instructions, he would single-handedly fuck up this entire plan.

“Okay, can we _please_ do this? This wyvern is chewing on my cloak.” Felix said.

“Yeah, here we go. Dimitri, the strap?” Sylvain questioned, extending his hand to Dimitri. He sighed nervously. “Alright…hey, hey…look at me. Hey!” Sylvain gave the Wyvern a whistle and her attention immediately snapped away from Felix. “I didn’t think that would actually work…” he mumbled. Sylvain unbuckled the strap as the wyvern willing let him affix the sealed letter to her neck. “The bag?” Sylvain reached one hand to Dimitri while praising the wyvern with the other. “You two back up a bit. This part is important.” Sylvain said, his heart beating faster. He held the wyverns attention, while opening the bag. He gave her the hand signal exactly as Seteth had shown him and laid Byleth’s hairbrush on the ground before her. Her eyes were affixed on the signal, her attention purely on Sylvain. He gave her the hand signal once again. The wyvern chirped and shifted her attention on the brush. She knelt her head and gave it a sniff before rolling her face on it.

“Oh, thank goddess…” Sylvain mumbled to himself. He, Felix and Dimitri watched nervously as she buried her nose into the brush; her curiosity heightened. Sylvain hadn’t told the whole truth. He didn't want Dimitri or Felix to know just how much effort he'd put into this today. Sylvain spent days reading about wyverns, the way they acted, and the nature of their behaviors. He felt like he owed this to Dimitri. He’d spoken with Seteth for more than just a few minutes. What began as a basic conversation turned into a three hour visit. What he learned was that Seteth wasn’t so bad and damn did he know a lot about wyverns. Sylvain made it his personal vendetta to fix what the House broke and so, he did much more than simply tackle this with a wing and a prayer. “Hey...” he gave the wyvern a whistle once again and gave her the hand sign once again. She watched Sylvain carefully, gave a louder squawk and her eyes lit up like wildfire. She outstretched her wings, and they shook in excitement. She dove her nose into the brush once again, all the while carrying on with various vocalizations. Sylvain retreated to where Felix and Dimitri stood. Her behavior was incredible.

The three watched in awe as the emerald wyvern excitedly and happily screeched. She clenched Byleth’s hairbrush in her teeth and in her jovial moment, took off into the air. They watched the wyvern until she disappeared from view. In forty-eight hours or less, Byleth Eisner would be on monastery property. The wyvern would be relentless in her retrieval. Still in a state of disbelief, Felix looked to Sylvain and said softly,

“Not everyone signed it.”

“What?” Sylvain questioned.

“Not all of the Blue Lions signed the grievance. Mercedes. Mercedes and Lorenz didn’t sign it. They’re the ones who can undo it.”

“Mercedes is an _Aegir_ and her _husband_ signed it. We’re screwed.”

“If Mercedes wants to help with this little debacle, Ferdinand won’t stop her. In fact, he’s our greatest asset. Think about it. He’s good friends with Lorenz.”

“So, how do we convince Mercedes and Lorenz to undo it? Time is not our friend. In fact, I don't even know where Byleth can stay when she's brought back without half this place finding out.”

“I’ll handle it.” Felix promised. “Actually, Dee will. But together, we’ll take care of it.”

“I'm counting on you to finish this.” Sylvain said, apprehension in his voice. 

* * *

Some years ago, while in Brigid, Petra loved Shamir. They had a steamy and very secretive relationship. If a woman loved another woman in Brigid and the news became public, well, the ending was hardly a peaceful one. She and Shamir were a beautiful couple. Shamir was more experienced than Petra. She gave all credit to Shamir for teaching her how to be a lover. Petra had her first everything with Shamir. They fell in love quickly and despite their differences in relationship maturity, they did well together. Frankly, Shamir fell hard for Petra and in turn Petra was smitten with Shamir’s burlesque beauty and charm. Shamir adored Petra’s fiery spirit and her underlying innocence. She and Petra had dreams: Make Brigid a power among the nations of Fódlan, put Brigid on the trade map, become the first territory governed by two women. Create a unified Brigid and Adrestia. It was Petra and Shamir against the world. And then, it all changed. Petra didn’t know what made her do it. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Shamir. She did. Goddess, she did. She didn’t intend on cheating…but it happened. One minute she was having an interesting conversation with a beautiful woman from the Empire and the next minute…

It was a messy breakup to say the least. Shamir, feeling like a fool for having put her heart out there only for it to get broken by a younger, hotter woman from the Empire. It was Petra’s fault, and she knew it. She’d been impulsive, frivolous, and she took her relationship for granted…she literally fucked around and lost it all. Shamir had zero tolerance for shit. Truthfully, she and Petra likely could have worked things out, but Shamir was too hurt to put forth the effort. Petra’s love life had been complicated ever since.

Shamir had been her rock and she hadn’t had a rock in her life…until she met Hubert. Petra was not attracted to men, yet she _slept_ with Hubert in one of the many threesomes she’d had with he and Edelgard. She didn’t think much about it. There were no romantic feelings tied to Hubert. As far as she was concerned, Hubert fit into a unique compartment of her life: the very trusted friend that she occasionally fucked. She could tell Hubert _anything_ without fear of judgement. She could unload on him without burden. And him? Hubert treated Petra with nothing but respect. He was almost more sincere with her than he was with Edelgard. Petra always swore she’d never sleep a man. She swore she’d never have a threesome. But, in the end, she did both.

“You’re very quiet.” Petra said, shoving her bowl aside and picking up her water glass. Hubert pushed his salad around his plate and looked up. Petra was such a stunning woman, striking in fact. It wasn’t just the fact that she had the obvious exoticism of the Brigidians, Petra was just…beautiful and even now, she still managed to maintain an air of innocence about her. Hubert slumped over into his hand, examining Petra further. And, then…he noticed it. He stopped moving his fork around his plate. _That_ was it. That’s what was different. He lifted his head and scowled.

“Petra.” He started. “When did you stop smoking?” She shrugged, tearing her roll into two pieces.

“A couple months ago. It was the time.” She said, as if it were no big deal at all. Hubert nodded.

“Well, um…that’s…that’s good. It’s good.” He said half nervously, half uncertain of how to respond. They sat in silence again for a moment. Petra let her knife hit the plate in a small clang and exhaled.

“Edelgard has never asked you what you want.” She finally said.

“I’m sorry?”

“In the married. She’s never asked what your desires are for married.” Hubert smiled softly. Petra’s endearing side was showing. Funny, she’d gotten it right many times before. Something must certainly be weighing heavily on her mind.

“Pardon me Petra but, it’s marriage. The word you wish to you is marriage.” Petra’s face lit up.

“Oh! Marri _age._ Thank you for reminding me of me this.”

“Anyway, you’re right. Edelgard has never asked me.”

“So, what is it you would desire from your marri _age?_ ” Petra asked, mindlessly dragging her butter knife over her roll. Hubert glanced up from the mixed greens, shaking his head.

“It’s…not as simple as a wish list.” Hubert confessed.

“You don’t seem very excited about the plans. You seemed more excited to marry Edelgard six months ago. It's me, isn't it?” Petra asked. Hubert nodded his head again.

I’ve learned more about El in six months than I ever knew about her before. I've learned more about myself than I've cared to admit. It's not you, Petra. I'm not quite sure that...Edie and I want the same things. We…just…disagree on many matters.”

“Like?” Petra pressed.

“Petra, Edelgard’s affections for you aren’t entirely pure. You’re being used as a pawn for the empire's interests.” There. That sounded good, right? Hubert could do this. He would say it exactly like that. He’d been rehearsing it in his head. Hubert realized the two were still silent. Hubert took a deep breath. “Edelgard doesn’t want…” Hubert’s unsteady words were interrupted.

“Children?” Petra interjected almost excitedly. That wasn’t at all what Hubert was going to say but Petra was correct, and it was much easier to discuss that than it was Edelgard’s true intentions toward Petra.

“Um…yes. Yes, that’s…that’s right. She does not. I’ve discussed the matter with her but she’s adamant.” Hubert could feel his heart race, seeing as the subject had quickly changed before it got started.

“Do you want them?” Petra asked.

“I did, yes. And I…wanted Edelgard to be the mother of my children but that is…not a possibility.”

“What if…it was…a possibility?”

“It would be one less burden one my tortured mind.” Hubert said, laying his fork in the center of his salad plate and shoving it aside.

“I’ve been thinking a lot. This marriage…this arrangement that you, me…and Edelgard will have. It’s…not entirely what I…envisioned. I want Edelgard, you know that but…I also want children, Hubert.” Hubert was silent. He wasn’t expecting this. Petra fluttered her eyes, trying to hold back the obvious forming tears. Hubert had never seen her get worked out over something. “Do you know that Shamir got married?” Petra said, her tears only increasing. “She…she married Catherine Charon. She didn’t tell me about it at all.” Petra covered her nose with her hands. It seemed as though Petra was entirely changing the subject again. “I didn’t think it would hurt so much hearing the news.” Suddenly, Hubert and Petra had more than they ever imagined in common. “It makes me very jealous. She got it and now I don’t know where I fit anymore. With this arrangement…I’ll never be a mother and I’ll never be the only one. You and I are doomed to vie for Edelgard’s attention.” Petra wept, crying into her hands. 

“No, no. Petra. No. It’s not like that.” Hubert said, hurriedly rising from his chair, taking Petra in his arms. “Edelgard doesn’t love you or me enough to make either of our needs even a slight priority. Whatever it is _we_ want…we will have to help each other to see it a reality.” He said, his arms around her shoulders.” She sniffed and looked into Hubert’s gaze. It wasn't the conversation he intended, but it was the conversation that was needed. 

“What are you saying?”

“Wh…what if…what if your desire for motherhood could be fulfilled…with me?” he asked, feeling a knot in his stomach.

“You mean you and I…have a child…together?” Petra questioned, as Hubert dried her eyes with his soft, cotton handkerchief. He nodded.

“It would be…like a business deal. We will be living under the same roof. You and I could raise a child for the protection of the Empire. No one would immediately know it was yours. It would be assumed the child to be mine and Edelgard’s. I suppose what I’m saying is that you and I have a desire for something Edelgard does not want.This was it. It was time for Hubert to dot he one thing for Petra that she deserved: Protect her from Edelgard. "I can promise you, Petra, I will ensure your utmost care and safe keeping.” Hubert sighed and gave her shoulders a squeeze. “I feel…Edelgard has used the two of us. I’ve never opposed her. My dedication to her has been blind.” Hubert threw his hands out, holding back his own tears. “…I…too have watched another marry and it shook me harder than I ever anticipated. I knew not my feelings ran as deeply as they did.” He swallowed the heavy lump in his throat. “Damn it Petra, I would consider it an honor as your friend to be the father to your child.” Hubert’s words, though not as he rehearsed, made a strong statement that would commit him to Petra more than his commitment to Edelgard. 

Petra nodded quickly through tear-stained eyes. “I’ve agreed to crazier things than this." she couldn't help but laugh.

"Petra..." Hubert dried his own eyes, a smile creeping onto his face.

"You’re a real friend.” She paused, her breath shuddering.

“So are you.” Hubert assured her, wiping his handkerchief over her streaked face. She sniffed and looked into his painful eyes.

“Who is it? Who got married?” she asked.

* * *

Manuela flipped the score and yawned. She shook her head and threw the pages aside. “No, no…no…stop.” Dorothea and Ferdinand looked up for Manuela’s direction. She stood and walked toward the alter steps. “Is there something wrong?”

“Wrong?” Ferdinand questioned. Manuela took a long swig of gin. “Did you two leave the chemistry at home because I’m not feeling it.”

“Ah! Is this about the second movement because I’ll agree that I’m a bit unrehearsed from the fifth…”

“No, Ferdinand…this isn’t about the second movement. Tell, me do you take the reins with _anything_ except that damn horse of yours? Do you know how to be forceful? To be…passionate? Do you have any idea what it’s like to be in charge?”

“What!?” Ferdinand asked, confused by Manuela’s obvious dissatisfaction.

“Manuela!” Dorothea exclaimed, equally surprised by Manuela's reaction. She was typically so pleasant and complimentary. 

“The words, Ferdinand! ‘It’s everything you ever want, it’s everything you ever need….’ Those lyrics are intense! They are meant to be sung with yearning and desire! I swear! If your dick is as limp and lifeless as your voice then…” Dorothea cut Manuela off, confounded.

“MANUELA!” Dorothea half-shrieked.

“What Dorothea? I'm serious! And you? You think you’re so interesting and engaging? Not hardly. You’re dull! Uninteresting! Unmoving! I’d rather hear my own nails on the chalkboard!” Manuela huffed and threw the score, taking an even longer drink of gin. “Is this what happens!? Dorothea, are you too busy being _fucked_ outside of rehearsal that you’ve no heat left for the stage!?

“What the…Manuela!?” Ferdinand gasped.

“It’s not you, Ferdie…it’s not me…it’s the fucking gin…” Dorothea whispered to Ferdinand.

“I heard that! Ferdinand, it _is_ you! It's you because based on _this_ performance, your wife is surely moaning your name out of disappointment! And Dorothea, it's you! It's you because I need you to sing like the whore that everybody used to think you were!” Dorothea’s mouth hung agape. How does _anyone_ respond to that!? Fortunately, Dorothea knew exactly how....

“Listen here, _Manuela_! You call me whatever you want but Ferdinand has a reputation, okay!? And it's not all tea and conditioner, either! I’ve _heard_ what he can do to his wife and she sure as hell isn’t disappointed!!” Dorothea fought for her friends’ honor…jamming her finger at Manuela.

“Okay, Dorothea, this isn’t the time or the place for…” Ferdinand whispered.

“ _Shut up_ …I won’t stand for her gin and loneliness-fueled insults! She’s gone too far!” she muttered back.

“Well, Dorothea…maybe it’s _you_ who’s the disappointment. Maybe you are just a little too _comfortable_. You are a _Mittlefrank Opera Diva!!_ Goddess damn it, _sing_ like one! Manuela half-slurred, half-yelled. “Maybe, I should just give your part to Christine. She is young, perky and… _red hot_ …if you know what I mean.

“Chr…Christine? Seriously? You’d give _my_ part to _his_ student _!?_ No! She wants to _fuck_ him! _”_ As if Dorothea couldn’t get any angrier. There was no way in hell Ferdinand’s prized student would out sing her!

“At least someone does!” Manuela snapped.

“Goddess, forgive this wretched behavior in your presence…” Ferdinand whispered to the cathedral ceiling before crossing himself. He cleared his throat.

“Manuela! I don’t think that’s the right choice. Dorothea has been my only partner since we entered the academy!”

“That’s cute, Ferdinand, but I need a man who’s had _multiple_ partners. Your duet couldn’t get any blander. And then, I watch the two of you with this bullshit choreography and it’s…pathetic…it’s lacking, and your costuming suggestions are…well, they are pitifully conservative.”

Dorothea looked at Ferdinand, the rage beginning to boil inside her. And Ferdinand looked so hurt by all this.

“Pitifully conservative, huh?” Dorothea taunted Manuela.

“Yes! Christine isn’t afraid to show a little skin. In fact, I’d venture to say she’d be willing to show a little more than you ever would, Dorothea. You surprise me, really. You weren’t afraid to flaunt _anything_ in Enbarr. Ugh…relationships destroy all the wild spontaneity between a man and a woman. It’s…so boring!” Manuela ranted. Dorothea nodded calmly.

“Christine… To think, _you_ trained her! _Fuck that bitch_ ” Dorothea mumbled again.

“Dorothea, I realize this is has been a very unpredictable and disrespectful twenty minutes, but I must remind you to watch your lan…”

“No! I’m not watching shit, Ferdinand! I won’t stand for this! Manuela is…well, _drunk_ for one…! That hoe messed with the wrong bitch, today! I will _cut_ her… _I will CUT HER DOWN_ …” Dorothea hissed quietly, her eyes on fire. “Alright, Manuela…we hear you and your little…critique. You’ve made your point. So, Ferdinand and I are calling it quits for today’s session and you’ll see us at the dress rehearsal in exactly four weeks.” Dorothea said, walking slowly toward Manuela and pulling Ferdinand along behind her.

“The dress rehearsal!? But we…”

“Dress…rehearsal…” Dorothea repeated, a finger stuck in Manuela’s face. “You want a whore? That's _exactly_ what you'll get. You just wait, Manuela. You take your gin and your un-met sexual frustrations and rehearse with Christine all you want. You. Just. Wait. Ferdinand c’mon. We are leaving.” she threatened, nearly breaking Ferdinand’s wrist in two.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa...where are we going!? What are we doing!?”

“To the market…” Dorothea answered, practically dragging Ferdinand down the aisle runner.

“What for!? Look, it’s been a rough afternoon, maybe we should have some nice tea instead? We can talk this over and...”

“Oh we'll talk this over alright. We'll talk it over as we are buying bolts of fabric! Tell your wife to get ready to sew her ass off! You’re okay with crushed velvet, right?”

“It’s a little risqué but it’s a nice fabric and it can be…” Dorothea cut him off. She didn’t have time for Ferdinand’s twenty-minute fabric dissertation.

“Even better. Let’s go.”

“Don’t you two think I won’t trash you both at the dress rehearsal! I’ll have your understudies rehearsed and ready to do everything you two lack!” Manuela thought she had the last word, but she forgot that she was now going up against the future Mrs. Fraldarius and Felix had rubbed off on Dorothea just a little too much. Dorothea spun around, nearly knocking straight into Ferdinand.

“Hey Manuela? The only thing you’re trashing at the dress rehearsal is YOUR ASS!” she yelled before dragging Ferdinand out the cathedral doors.

* * *

“And it’s really quite fantastic when you think about it! I always thought my crest research would benefit me in other ways, but the research was only a springboard. Look at this! I simply can't stop reading about the wonders of child development. And so little is known, Marianne! There's much to learn. I simply can't understand why medics haven't ventured into this research. And can you imagine if Lorenz and Lysithea’s baby is born with _two_ major crests and one minor? It would be utterly fantastic! A marvel, in fact!” Linhardt rambled and rambled. He'd been talking excitedly for at least twenty minutes. Amazing what four ounces of white wine could do. Marianne smiled and laughed. 

“Medics don't study obstetrics because it's considered taboo. But, you're in the position to change that. You know what you should do?” Marianne asked, laughing and quite obviously buzzed. “You should be a physician, Linhardt. You should specialize in obstetrics. It's like I told Dorothea. If she can normalize sex, _you_ can normalize birth! People won't get their feathers so ruffled about it.” Marianne encouraged. Linhardt seemed perplexed by the idea and unbelievably flattered. “You could easily further your training after graduation."

"Hmm...I’ve always seen myself as more of a scholar of the literary type. I never anticipated this. I could have never guessed how much I would enjoy all this. Every day, watching Lysithea, feeling her stomach...it's so magical to me. ” Linhardt took another sip of wine. He laughed.

“What?” Marianne asked, swirling the wine in her glass.

“I…I don’t know. I can’t believe that…you and I are doing it. _We_ are going to deliver Lysithea's baby and…” Linhardt shook his head. “I've always had a vision of myself giving lectures to institutions about my studies. Thanks to Mercedes, I hope to give lectures about advances in maternal care.”

“I can see you doing exactly that! Linhardt, before Mercedes approached you with this task, all you ever wanted to do was laze the days away. This is your calling! Not only did you take this more seriously than anyone would have ever anticipated, and you’re… _unbelievably_ handsome when you’re doing it!” It took every gut Marianne had (and a half bottle of wine) to say it out loud. Linhardt stopped mid-sip, placing his glass aside. He smiled and turned pink.

“A woman has never called me handsome before. Let alone a…beautiful one like you.” Linhardt turned even pinker, diverting his eyes to the table. He wrapped his fingers on the edge of the table before exhaling heavily and looking up toward Marianne. She locked her eyes on his. "So...tell me...what would you do if...I kissed you?" Marianne giggled.

"I certainly wouldn't stop you, that's what." she confessed. Lindhardt reached for Marianne's hands, pulling her across the table toward him. He kissed her lips in what was supposed to be a quick gesture of his affection toward her. However, his gratitude for her support filtered through his lips, neither of them offering to pull away from the other. Finally, Marianne fell back into her chair, breathless and frankly, a little dizzy.

“I've....never done that before.” Linhardt confessed. Marianne shook her head.

"Yeah, me neither..." 

"You want to...finish the wine in my room?" Lindhart thought about what he said. "And by finish this wine in my room, I mean _exactly_ that! I'm not Sylvain!" Lindhart defended his offer. Marianne laughed at him. 

"Thank Goddess! Yes, absolutely! Let's go to your room. Besides, I want to hear more about your studies." Linhardt had never felt more special in all his time at the monastery. 

* * *

“Hey, how long have you been in here?” Hilda asked softly, yawning as she joined Claude on the ivory couch. There was a single candle burning on the table.

“Yeah. Couldn’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about this.” Claude said, referencing the petition glowing with Shar’s signature. “I have…so many questions. This is why she left. This is why she didn’t come back. Do you think that…” Claude watched Hilda in the candlelight.

“I don’t have the answers you seek, Claude.” Hilda said, no particular inflection in her voice.

“Look, Hilda. This isn’t about me still being in love with Byleth, get that out of your mind. I love _you_. I can honestly say I no longer have any feelings toward her. I promise you. I’m just…baffled that she spent so much time on this.”

“It’s a selfish motive, Claude. She did this because she had to had soul search. Byleth Eisner needed to a stark reminder that she was out of her element and out of her comfort zone and in _no way_ prepared to be a Queen for Almyra. Not everyone fits into your world…especially her. You tried so hard to _get_ her to fit into your world and Shar did everything to make her a part of it. That petition is as close as she’ll ever come.” Hilda stopped talking. She never liked getting too serious with Claude, but she felt it necessary. Every time she thought the grand mistake that was Byleth was dissipating, she seemed to get thrown into Hilda’s face once again. “But I have to say. I read her words to you a hundred times and I believe many of her words are true. I believe she is…forever in your debt. And I believe that the petition is her way to start righting her wrongs.” She added.

Claude watched Hilda. He nodded. So much of what Hilda deduced wasn’t all wrong. “So…” she started, peering at Claude framed by the soft candle. “…what else? Claude read over the petition again, looking at the final needed signatures.

“I want to be the last one to sign this.” Claude stated. Hilda didn’t respond immediately. “I want to be the last one and I want you to watch me do it. You’re going to be one that makes this happen. You’re going to finish it.” Claude promised her. Hilda smiled, touched by his sentiment but she found it to be bittersweet.

“Except…I…didn’t start it. She did.” Hilda reminded him, jealousy leaking into her words. She scoffed and shook her head. “When? When will you _ever_ be over her?” Claude looked at her over the candle again. Did she really feel that way? Had Claude not done enough to convince Hilda that, in fact, Claude _was_ over Byleth. Maybe he hadn’t yet outrun his past mistakes he’d made with Hilda. He shifted his eyes to the document before holding it above the candle’s flame. Hilda jumped up alarmed and horrified.

“What are you doing!? Are you insane! It’s going to catch fire!!” she exclaimed. Hilda quickly snatched up the petition, fearful of its demise.

“Hilda, if it meant burning this petition before your eyes to prove to you that you’re the one, I would betray my own countrywomen by burning this tainted petition for you.” Claude said candidly, tears slightly forming in his eyes. Hilda stared. He would really do that? He would undo everything Byleth did…for her? She shook her head.

“That’s…not what I want from you. I don’t want you to throw away anything Byelth has already done…for me.”

“Then what is it? What you need from me…to know that it’s you…not her.” Claude begged of Hilda. She watched him over the candle’s flame. Hilda said nothing. There’s wasn’t _really_ an answer she could give to that question. She reached her hand over the table to Claude’s, his fingers interlacing with hers.

“I want to watch you sign petition in law, Claude. And I want to hold your hand as you officially finish and open what you started…The Great Almyran Pass.” Hilda said, referring to Amir’s engineering marvel. Claude watched Hilda with sincere eyes. He nodded.

“Me too..” he sniffed. “I want that too…”


End file.
